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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25443190">bleed, breathe</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/abscission/pseuds/abscission'>abscission</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>North [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Andromeda Six (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Politics, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anxiety, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Flawed Protagonist, Guerrilla Warfare of a sort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Panic Attacks, Second Chances, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, mild body horror</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:00:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25443190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/abscission/pseuds/abscission</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite all appearances, Apolia is resilient. She wasn't meant to be queen, didn't want it, but the chips had fallen and she will step up to the challenge. </p><p>If only she could decide what Vexx Serif in combination with the blood in her past made her feel, maybe she'd do something about that, too.</p><p>(Or: an AU continuation from the VN's episode 4, and a story about sci-fi worldbuilding, recovery, and facing the past.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Vexx Serif/Original Female Character(s), Vexx Serif/Traveler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>North [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842853</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a direct sequel to <i>heaven afire</i> in that if you haven't read that one, you'll have a hard time following the character motivation/thoughts here... and fic #1 can be read as a standalone anyway, so go read that one before this!</p><p>I’ve been told Vexx kissing the MC is canon, but since I’m a gremlin who lives under a rock, that’s not the case here.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You file onto the bridge. Everyone is here. Ryona hurries over to you, and Bash surrenders you with his hands up.</p><p>June smiles at you from near the control panel. Ayame is leaning against the pilot’s chair, and as Damon joins them, Calderon steps closer, to make their conversation quiet. “Anything?” he asks.</p><p>But Damon is having none of it.</p><p>“Princess over there got the most out of him,” he jerks his chin towards you, voice pitched to carry.</p><p>Ryona makes an irritated noise. You pat her arm.</p><p>You’re pretty sure she’s like this because she put two and two together on Cursa about your soulbond, but you’re not sure how much Damon’s realized. Of the crew, only those two has seen your mark with their eyes. The rest...assumes. All Tilaari have one, after all. Being half and half hasn’t erased that part.</p><p>Regardless, being a floor away from Vexx has given you the clarity needed to shelf unnecessary emotions.</p><p>Calderon looks at you expectantly. “Well, navigator? Report.”</p><p>“We’re clear of trackers, and we’ve shaken our tail with Alisa’s route. Zovack doesn’t know I’m here yet.” You pause, framing the next sentence in a way no one can make fun of. “Someone should still check the lieutenant for bugs or trackers, and he may be hurt. He wasn’t clear on those.”</p><p>You expect Calderon to start ordering the crew around, but they’re all staring at you.</p><p>“The- lieutenant?” Ayame repeats, confused.</p><p>Oh. Did you say that? You wrinkle your nose. “Serif.”</p><p>“So he’d been a Royal Guard,” Calderon says, clipped. You remember he knew Sorenn. But Sorenn was part of the ground troops, and they had nothing to do with palace security. That was Elettra’s job.</p><p>“Her personal retinue, actually,” Damon adds.</p><p>“Zovack must have had spies deep within the bureaucracy to be able to plant a spy that deep. Security retinues for the royal family are highly guarded.” Calderon’s frown deepens. “I hate to admit it, but Zovack was very prepared.”</p><p>You shake your head. “Elettra personally oversaw the Royal Guards for family security. Serif was assigned to me purely by chance.”</p><p>A chance he made well use of. Betrayal tastes bitter and foul, so you shove that down, too.</p><p>“Insular,” Bash comments, then hastily adds, “No offence, Apolia.”</p><p>You shrug.</p><p>“So if Zovack doesn’t know you’re here, that means the Crimson Dusk attack was purely local politics?” June asks, seeming to the room.</p><p>“Probably,” Damon replies. “But the real question is, does he know he’s missing a Peg’asi?”</p><p>“They know they’re missing a corpse,” you say. Everyone looks at you again. “Oppo told me.” You pull up your sleeves then spread your hands. “Hard to miss this corpse. There should be four colourful ones.”</p><p>Ryona, Bash, Ayame, and June all wince.</p><p>Calderon clears his throat. “Right. If that’s all, I want a sit-rep from everyone on their duties. Apolia, this is good practice for you. We’ll start with the pilot.”</p><p>Ayame bounces on her feet. “We’ve dodged the K’Merii tail and will be entering hyperspeed in five minutes. Our current trajectory will deposit us in the gravity well of Orion. I suggest the engineer prepare for any magnetic capture devices, gravity sinkholes, or similar snare that may be on site because we’re going to emerge pretty deep inside orbit. You never know what those mad scientists are up to, so it’s best to be prepared.”</p><p>Bash steps forwards. “Noted, Aya. The C-D is performing as expected. With it, we’ll be able to sneak under most radars if we’re careful not to crash into them, or to pass by any singularities that may interfere with the device, but that won’t be a problem in hyperspeed. We will need to plan a refuel on Orion, as the C-D takes up a lot of juice. I’ve already diverted what power is safe to divert, so we sort of have to stop at Orion.” He glances at June, who has gone pale. “Sorry, June. I’ll leave the rest to the pilot and the navigator.”</p><p>“Whoa, hang on.” June raises his hands. “We can’t just swing by Orion like its a drive-thru. You know it doesn’t work that way!”</p><p>“There are pirate docks we can use,” Ayame says. “This route is definitely a smuggling route.”</p><p>“And we have <em>most</em> of the requisite shielding for their capture devices,” Bash says. When Ayame raises an eyebrow at ‘most’, he shrugs, adding, “There could be new stuff, I dunno.”</p><p>“But what about the cargo inspections? The licenses? We don’t have any of that!”</p><p>“We have money, and that normally greases those wheels,” Damon points out. “And that’s my sit-rep.”</p><p>He must have had some leftover from selling the Kitalphite music box, you think. A little drip of sadness seeps through the walls you’ve put up.</p><p>“That doesn’t-!” June sputters.</p><p>It must be hard for him. You wonder what you would feel if the crew had to stop at Goldis, but the twisting of your stomach probably can’t hold a candle to what June is feeling. No matter how much you disliked your family and was miserable there, you weren’t a science experiment.</p><p>“We have a plan,” Calderon’s voice snaps all attention back to him. “The Crimson Dusk left us with several cases of explosives. If we stage an accident in the Orionite labs, we can disrupt Zovack’s seat of power and divert attention from ourselves long enough to get what we need and then leave.”</p><p>Nods go around the circle. But Ryona speaks up. “And the innocents that’ll be caught in the crossfire?”</p><p>Everyone falls silent, even Damon.</p><p>There is a lengthy and awkward silence. You gather the courage, then open your mouth. “We can set off a localized evacuation alarm, then set the charges in the server stations, which are off-site. That part of Orion is fully automated. The servers are stored in outbuildings from the main facilities. They hold a significant portion of the planet’s computing power and storage capacity. There's more then one, but none of them are connected to the main facilities for security reasons. If we destroy even one of them, it should set Zovack back decades of research.”</p><p>Then your shoulders rise, nervous at the stares you’re getting.</p><p>“Only, I don’t know where the servers are, and I don’t know how to look for it.” The information should at least be accurate, however. Ecko hadn’t bothered to change Orion's operating structure, and the Council of Essence deferred to him both in his directorial powers and as a representative of the crown.</p><p>“I still don’t like this,” June says, but his shoulders have relaxed by a tiny fraction.</p><p>“No choice,” Ayame says, absent of her usual cheer. “Either we refuel on Orion or we’re dead in space, primed for a collision with some stray asteroid.”</p><p>June grits his teeth, then strides off the bridge.</p><p>“For what it’s worth, I like the Princess’s plan.” Ayame waves a hand after June. “You guys can discuss more. I’m gonna go make sure he doesn’t break anything.”</p><p>As Ayame leaves, Calderon sighs. “I like your plan too, Apolia, but if we have to spend more time looking for the server space on Orion... I know we have to stop there, but it’s not safe. It’s Zovack’s stronghold, and we have a bounty on our heads.”</p><p>“Why not both?” Bash says, scratching his head. “We have to locate strategic points for blowing something up anyway, and that means we’re gonna be trawling for information. If we pick up chatter about a server building...” He puts his fingers together then pulls them apart, miming an explosion.</p><p>“It’s a good plan.” You did not expect Damon’s seal of approval, and you’re not sure how to interpret the look he’s giving you. Disdain? Begrudging approval? Suspicion?</p><p>“Anything that reduces the lives lost,” Ryona says. “Or we’re no better than Zovack.”</p><p>Calderon looks around the bridge. Then he rolls his shoulders back and straightens. “I’m overruled. We’ll do what Bash said. Damon, I trust you’ll do your...thing with our contacts?”</p><p>“I’ll try, but no promises.”</p><p>The captain nods. Then he turns to Bash. “Before you see to the preparations for Orion, go sweep the cargo hold and the prisoner for bugs.”</p><p>“Right-o, captain.” Bash salutes with two fingers, then walks off the bridge.</p><p>“Now. Did you say our prisoner had an injury, Apolia?”</p><p>You hesitate. “It was more of... a very specific headache.”</p><p>Ryona’s brows rise into her hair. “How so?”</p><p>You tug at your sleeves, wondering how to describe watching Vexx snap from one mood to the next, punctuated by nothing you could spot.</p><p>“So you noticed he was behaving strangely too?”</p><p>You look at Damon with surprise. You’d known they both worked with Zovack at some point, but hadn’t realized they were that familiar.</p><p>“You could- call it that,” you say.</p><p>“Yeah, thought so. Alisa noticed it too. She’s looking into it for me, but it'll take a while.” He turns so he’s in profile, then traces a faint line from his temple to the shell of his ear. “He’s got a scar here, freshly healed.” Then he cocks his head. “More of a jerk than he usually is, too. Put that together, what do you get?”</p><p>“You suspect he was operated on?”</p><p>“I don’t <em>suspect</em> that, Cal, I <em>know</em> that’s what happened. You don’t get a wound on the temple and survive, if you got it in a fight.</p><p>“Zovack picked up this doctor from Cursa around the time I worked for him. Real creep, got his rocks off using people as lab rats. Zovack loved this guy. Ate up everything he fed ‘im about science and biology, threw a shitload of money into his experiments. Kept him close. Wherever Zovack goes, that guy went too. He’s probably on Goldis right now.” Damon rolls a shoulder, then continues. “This stinks of his work. Stripping memories, emotions, personalities. He's been trying for years. Reducing a subject to a blank slate, then writing new instructions.”</p><p>His words paint a chilling picture. You are not aware of the full scope of Seleotan technology, mostly because details of cutting edge technological progress are state secrets and there was no need for the eleventh heir to know that much. Reconditioning of that sort...</p><p>“It’s still not perfect, is it?” you say, surprising yourself.</p><p>You bite the inside of your cheeks. You hadn’t meant to speak aloud. Now that you did, you’ll have to follow through. What is it about the crew that makes you comfortable enough to forget yourself?</p><p>“What?” Damon asks.</p><p>“Serif is still functioning. He thinks for himself, acts with free will, and he-” <em>remembers enough to call out to me,</em> you don’t finish.</p><p>Something must’ve shown on your face, because Ryona puts a hand on your shoulder.</p><p>You look up. She’s pale, her skin dull and the corners of her mouth drawn. Listening to this must be going against all her healer’s instincts.</p><p>You get back to the point. “If I had such technology, I’d want the soldier to be completely obedient. But Serif isn’t like that. Right now, he’s unstable, and that’s no puppet-soldier I’d want.”</p><p>Not to mention the awareness of lack. You’re not sure how to phrase it, so you don’t say anything, but when you were amnesiac, the foremost thing on your mind was to get those memories back. Which...the best puppet is one who doesn’t know they’re being controlled.</p><p>“Dark, princess,” Damon says, and now it’s definitely amusement tugging at his lips.</p><p>“I witnessed such mood swings myself,” Ryona adds, “and a botched or experimental procedure would go very far in explaining his behaviour.”</p><p>“Can you confirm this— procedure happened to him?” Calderon asks. He's listened to you theorize in silence, the furrow of his brow is growing deeper and deeper.</p><p>“I’ll have to run checks, but it’s a high possibility—”</p><p>
  <em>Wow, am I popular.</em>
</p><p>Vexx’s voice sounds over the speakers, ringing through the bridge. Calderon glares at the ceiling. Ryona jumps, then purses her lips and folds her arms. Damon coughs to hide his laugh. You twist your fingers together, shoulders rising to your ears.</p><p>There’s a crash and a yell from outside. Before anyone can react, the door slides open.</p><p>Vexx leans against the doorframe, Bash’s comm dangling from his fingers. Bash himself is sprawled on his butt, rubbing the back of his head and glaring at Vexx.</p><p>Calderon’s hands fly to his gun holsters. Ryona shoves you behind her.</p><p><em>Couldn’t help but overhear your daring, courageous plan to storm the labs.</em> Vexx speaks into the comm, then drops it at Bash’s feet, his smirk slipping off his face in the same action. “And everything else.” His eyes land on you. Before you can decide to do anything about it, Ryona shifts so she blocks you entirely.</p><p>There’s something hilarious in the fact that her slim figure can indeed hide you. You’ve never quite had your small stature brought to your focus like this before.</p><p>“Give me one reason I shouldn’t shoot you right now,” Calderon says.</p><p>“What did I tell you about your hand-to-hand, Bash?” Damon calls, laughing.</p><p>Bash gets to his feet, picking up his commlink. “My bad, captain. I was sloppy. Found him hooked up to the system in a supply closet and panicked.”</p><p>When Vexx doesn’t respond, Calderon and Ryona both relax a fraction. You tap on Ryona’s arm, and she turns to you with an apologetic expression, moving aside. She still hovers close, and you’re glad for the silent support.</p><p>“What do you want?” Calderon asks warily.</p><p>“Free reign of the ship in exchange for information and safe passage through Orion’s atmosphere.”</p><p>Damon laughs a “In your dreams!”, at the same time Bash exclaims, “<em>No </em>way!”</p><p>Your gaze darts between the crew as Calderon’s brow darkens even further. “Why would you help us?” Calderon demands.</p><p>Your mark itches as Vexx shifts, stepping onto the bridge proper. Bash follows, closing the door behind them. Acting as some sort of guard, you suppose, although the efficacy of that is doubtful, since Vexx clearly overpowered Bash and dragged him here.</p><p>“I have personal business on Orion,” he says. Vexx’s eyes land on each of the crew on the bridge, but when he gets to you, his voice falters for a moment. “That I’d rather Zovack not know.” He fixes his gaze on Calderon, hands fisted at his sides, one step short of a parade rest.</p><p>“Biting the hand that feeds?” Damon tuts patronizingly. “Bad dog.”</p><p>Vexx visibly holds himself back from rising to the bait, and Damon cackles.</p><p>Calderon narrows his eyes. “What sort of business.”</p><p>“I said it’s personal.”</p><p>“Oh c’mon capt’n, throw him a bone!” Damon is smirking, but the amusement dancing in his eyes is dark and sharp.</p><p>A muscle in Vexx’s jaw jumps, but all he says is, “Do we have a deal?”</p><p>You realize he’s clenching his jaw and forcing his back straight, a familiar posture that comes back to you in a flash—you two had been caught once, alone together, him skirting his duties and you without your chaperone, and while you got off with a slap on the wrist, he had gotten a scolding on the spot. He was like this, then, angry and embarrassed and holding it back from showing on his face. You had been scared, scared that the encounter would chase him away. (You had been so relieved when it didn’t.) Now, it’s weirdly endearing, this shred of your past being mirrored.</p><p>Calderon watches him carefully for a second more, then says, dismissively, “We can discuss this arrangement further. I have more urgent matters to deal with. For now, you are to return to the makeshift cell in the hold. Damon, see to it.” He strides off the bridge. At the door, he pauses. “And he does <em>not</em> leave your sight.”</p><p>“Yessir!” Damon calls, then turns his wolf’s smirk on Vexx. “Welcome aboard, Serif. I hope you enjoy your ride.”</p><p>Vexx’s facade of calm finally breaks, and he snarls at Damon.</p><p>Ryona claps her hands together to draw attention to her. You startle at the sudden noise, and so does the men.</p><p>“Damon, I want Serif in my infirmary in ten. Apolia, come with me.” She sweeps off the bridge. You hurry to follow, having no desire to be alone on the bridge with two powder-kegs primed to go off. The back of your neck prickles with the weight of someone’s gaze.</p><p>Once the door closes behind you, Ryona lets out a long, beleaguered sigh. She pauses by the observatory, running her hands through her long silver hair.</p><p>Backed by the infinite stars, she’s even more beautiful.</p><p>She catches you staring, and her face falls. “Oh, Apolia, I’m sorry for everything.”</p><p>“What? Why?” you ask, hackles rising. Is she going to talk about it here? No. You’re not going to say a word, not out here.</p><p>“Come. We can talk freely once we’re in the medbay.” She tugs you along and you go with her, suddenly overcome with emotion in the face of her empathy.</p><p>The medbay isn’t far, but you barely make two steps in before you feel your throat close up, breath hitching. You stumble onto the plastic medical chair, the room blurred by an uncontrollable onslaught of tears. Like a dam breaking, events of the day rush to the forefront of your mind.</p><p>You fight for your breath, clutching your arm close to your chest, struggling to stay afloat in the sea of despair. It was never real, it was all a lie, everything he said and promised and now they’re all dead, all <em>dead</em> because <em>you</em> wanted a <em>friend</em>, you <em>killed them</em>—</p><p>“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’ll pass, just breathe—” Ryona’s gentle hands flutter across your face, her soothing voice murmuring softly.</p><p>For a while, you are consumed with regaining control of your being. The sobs that wrack your frame are frightening in their intensity; as though a demon had taken ahold of your frame and is shaking it, intent on tearing you apart. Blue walls and blue floors become indistinguishable as you curl up, trying to hold yourself together. Dimly, you hear Ryona’s quiet voice, and you reach for it, and finally, slowly, you come back to yourself.</p><p>
  <em>...Not my fault.</em>
</p><p>“—to me,” she pauses. “Apolia? How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Like shit,” you croak. Your voice is thick with tears, and you wince silently at its strangeness. You are also squeezing her wrist tight enough to hurt, and with a startle of guilt you let go.</p><p>You’ve never cried like this before.</p><p>Ryona brings you tissues and a cup of water. You reach for both gratefully, still hiccuping.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” Ryona has taken a seat on her doctor’s stool. She looks at you with only sympathy, and in the face of her openness you feel compelled to share.</p><p>You roll up your sleeves. (Your skin has never been a duller shade.)</p><p>She sighs upon seeing the compass-mark, its needle pointed in the direction of the bridge.</p><p>“Is it Vexx Serif?” she asks.</p><p>You cringe, swallow a sob, and nod.</p><p>“Does he know?”</p><p>You shake your head.</p><p>Ryona sighs again, reaches out to cover up the mark with her hand. Her skin is a bluer shade then your’s, and her palm is warm.</p><p>“These marks ... even though we have them, they do not need to dictate our lives. You can choose beyond them, outside of them. Think of them as a guideline to your life, not a script.” She moves her hand away to pull up her own sleeve. (You try to not watch your needle’s minute shifts, tuned in to the specific motions now that Vexx is so close; it looks like he’s pacing back and forth.)</p><p>Her compass is the same silver, even if the last time you saw one that isn’t yours is a hazy memory. It points beyond the medbay’s walls, into space.</p><p>“I am lucky enough to not have encountered my north yet,” she says, then reaches to roll down your sleeve before pulling down her own. “But know that back on Tilaarin, many of us simply choose to cover it up, and let chance decide who we love, like the rest of Seleota.”</p><p>You highly doubt Mother only ordered long sleeves for all of you because she adhered to this philosophy. But again, no point in interrogating the dead.</p><p>“But the- the emotions?” you ask.</p><p>“They are as real as any other emotion we feel,” Ryona says, firmly, reaching to squeeze your knee. “They are not a fiction of the soulmark, Apolia. I cannot imagine the pain of betrayal like you have experienced, but what the mark makes you feel are like what any other object makes you feel. My scent mister calms me down, but that doesn’t make the calm artificial, and I can reject and control that emotion just like any other.”</p><p>“It was him on Nos Vega too,” you say, after a beat of silence. “It was strongest then.”</p><p>Ryona isn’t surprised by this, and you finally put down the trepidation in your heart at revealing that information. “You had been very shaken up. Let’s see... It could be because of your long separation- he was missing for several weeks beforehand, you say?” You nod “—could be that. Or, it’s the shock of being reunited, or all of the above. I’m not sure.” She puts a finger to her lip, thinking. “No one’s done studies of this kind, you understand. It’d be awful, not to mention unethical, to separate a bonded pair for any- oh!” Her eyes widen. “But he’s human, and won’t have the echoing mark like a Tilaari to—”</p><p>“He’s Kitalphan,” you say, then bites your lip at the interruption.</p><p>Ryona blinks. “Then I’ll have to hunt down Aya.”</p><p>You tilt your head quizzically, surprised at the abrupt change of topics.</p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ryona smiles, apologetic. “I was thinking ahead to how I’ll check for surgical disruptions of a bio-rhythm... never mind that. My point was, you won’t be experiencing an emotional whiplash of that magnitude as Nos Vega anymore. Shouldn’t, at least. Has the mark’s feedback been normal recently?”</p><p>You twist your arm as you consider it. Within the space of Ryona’s infirmary, you can approach those memories with a degree of control, and your breath leaves you in a relieved rush when you conclude that the recent dealings with Vexx had not been as fraught with turbulent emotions as the first time.</p><p>(But you don’t dare reach further back in your memory, afraid of the innocence that lays there.)</p><p>“Pretty normal, I think,” you say.</p><p>When you look up, Ryona is smiling encouragingly. “Would you like me to run a diagnostics on you? We never got the chance after you regained your memories.”</p><p>Feeling on more stable footing than you have in weeks, you agree.</p><p>As she swishes her wand around, repeating the motions you’ve seen before, you watch with a growing curiosity. When she pulls the wand back to read the Tilaari display on the side — that you can only read a smidgen of, as King Fenris forbid your blood siblings from studying Tilaari — you gather your courage and say, “This knowledge- being a medic- Can you teach me?”</p><p>Then you blush, because you evidently hadn’t thought it through before opening your mouth.</p><p>“You want to learn medicine?” Ryona’s attention turns to you even as she swishes her wand, transferring the data to the wall-mounted screen behind the medical chair.</p><p>You nod, hoping she’ll agree. It’ll let you spend more time with her, now that you don’t have a wound or a newly-discovered mark to talk about with her anymore.</p><p>She begins to glow, ever so slightly. “Of course! I’m so glad you asked. This is a passion of mine, and I’ll be delighted to share with you anything you want to—“</p><p>The door slides open and Vexx is shoved inside by Damon, who follows closely.</p><p>You both stare at the intruders. Damon stares back, guileless, and Vexx stares gloomily at a wall.</p><p>“Well,” says Ryona archly, “that was very rude, Damon. Didn’t Alisa teach you to knock?”</p><p>“Ten minutes,” Damon shrugs, trying for nonchalance. But a corner of his lips is tugging upwards in a grin.</p><p>The Tilaari sighs explosively. You hold in a smile. Ryona and Damon have a very unique dynamic, and you’re always happy to see more of it.</p><p>“Your readings are no different, Apolia.” Ryona turns back to you. “Guess we weren’t able to determine memory loss in the first place. Oh well! I’m glad you are recovered. You can go, and if you see Aya, point her this way? Remember what we talked about,” she adds, flicking her eyes over to Vexx, who’s scowling at the floor, standing rigid in a corner.</p><p>You stand to leave, not as nervous as you expected. Damon stops you at the door.</p><p>“Got a minute?” he asks.</p><p>You glance back. Vexx is on the medical chair, begrudgingly submitting to Ryona’s no-nonsense examination process. He looks strange under the stark lighting. You’ve only seen him in darkened alleys and under rainy skies, all with muted light. (Your memories are aglow with Silta Vie’s golden lights. Those don’t count.)</p><p>Here, he seems overexposed, washed-out, and <em>tired</em>.</p><p>Not himself.</p><p>“He won’t dare to misbehave in front of the medic. She’s holding a very pointy stick, see.” Damon follows your gaze. “I have to talk to you.”</p><p>You look at him, suspicious.</p><p>“Aw, loosen up, princess. I’m not planning anything <em>untoward</em>,“ his voice rises out of nowhere, then drops again. “Promise. Just a talk.”</p><p>You can’t figure him out, you really can’t. Shaking your head a little, you hold the door open and gesture for him to go first. As you exit, you again feel the weight of a gaze, and this time you’re sure it’s Vexx. You’re less sure how to feel about it.</p><p>“It’s like he’s imprinted on you, I swear,” Damon mutters with exasperation, but when you cross your arms and stare at him expectantly, he only shrugs. “Catch.”</p><p>The silver thing arcs towards you, and you fumble to catch it, but only just.</p><p>Damon coughs to hide a laugh, and when you glare at him, gives up all pretense and throws his head back.</p><p>“You done?” you say, as drily as possible, after letting him laugh his fill.</p><p>“Yes, I just—” he chuckles, then cuts himself off and gestures for you to look at the thing you’ve caught, still grinning.</p><p>You had an inkling, but hadn’t dared to hope.</p><p>In your hand is Nerissa’s music box, pristine as ever. You squeeze the unlocking mechanism and it pops open, freeing the sparse, tinkling melody. A holographic ballerina, no longer flickering and glitchy, spins in the center of the silver rosette.</p><p>“I thought—”</p><p>“You’d never see it again?” Damon smirks triumphantly.</p><p>“You fixed it.” Your voice is a whisper, reverent and grateful. “How?”</p><p>“Alisa. No one was sure what it did, but this was the best job the jewellers she found could do.”</p><p>The ballerina finishes a revolution and begins a dainty and transparent pirouette.</p><p>“How did you pay for the parts if not with this?” Despite your words, you grip the music box tight. You truly had not expected to see it again. This is a kindness beyond your expectations, understanding, and most of all ability to repay. “Thank you,” you say, placing every bit of emotion into those two words.</p><p>“I have my ways,” Damon shrugs, clearing his throat. “Don’t thank me. This is the least I could do in apology after what I said on Nos Vega.”</p><p>You choke out a laugh, still overcome with gratitude. “This is beyond an apology, Damon. Thank you for giving this back to me.”</p><p>But you see the thanks sliding off his shoulders like water off a duck. He smiles, a different thing from all his smirks and grins and leers. It’s small, but it’s sincere.</p><p>“I shouldn’t have suggested handing you over to Zovack. It was inappropriate and wrong and I need to be better than that. I thought if I did this for you, you’ll believe me.” He straightens. “For what this’s worth: I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I understand,” you say, unwilling to look away from the music box too long. If handing yourself over to Zovack can raise the dead, you’d do it in a heartbeat, too. You understand where he’d been coming from.</p><p>Then Damon clears his throat, “What’s that mean, princess?”</p><p>“Oh-,” you stutter. “I mean, apology accepted. Again, thank you for this.”</p><p>“Stop thanking me, you dolt.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Alright, fair’s fair. You’re welcome.” Then the trademark smirk creeps back onto his face. “Thought you of all people would appreciate a wordless gesture anyway.”</p><p>“You-!” Caught off guard at the (ultimately harmless) rib, you smack his arm.</p><p>He laughs, feigning injury.</p><p>And this is the tableau Vexx walks into. His surprise quickly fades, and his gaze skips over you like a bad record. He glares at Damon.</p><p>You take an unconscious step back. This is almost worse than an angry, confrontational Vexx.</p><p>“Hey carrot head!” Damon says cheerily. “All done? Did the doctor lady scare you? Need a hug?”</p><p>“Don’t call him that,” you say, eyes on the close music box. The nickname rubs you the wrong way, and you don’t want to think too hard on why.</p><p>“Oh?” You can almost hear Damon’s glee at finding a new thing to tease. “If Your Highness says so.”</p><p>“Now you’re just being a jerk.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes. The music box goes into your pocket. “Where did Aya and June go, d’you know?”</p><p>“Check the training room, level two, next door to the engine room.”</p><p>You nod, not meeting anyone’s eyes, and leave.</p><p>This time, thankfully, no one watches you.</p><p>***</p><p>Finally, you find yourself back in the blissful silence of your room.</p><p>You had found Ayame in the engine room as Damon said, chatting with Bash. After relaying Ryona’s message, you asked about June, having not seen him on your way.</p><p>“He’s fine,” Ayame had said. “He’s calmed down and seen the inevitable reality of space travel. Talking to the captain now.”</p><p>Then she hopped off the table and skipped out with a wink and a wave at you and Bash.</p><p>Bash had the engines and hull to tend to, so you excused yourself. He waved goodbye with a smile, then disappeared under the hulk of metal that’s the outer casing of the engine.</p><p>A shower and some food later, you find yourself thoroughly exhausted. What a long day it’s been.</p><p>The lights in the corridor are still bright, but you can’t fight the drowsiness weighing on your eyelids.</p><p>Crawling onto the elevated bed, you are asleep the moment your head hits the pillow.</p><p>***</p><p>You open your eyes to dryness and silence.</p><p>The lights in your room are still on—you had been so tired you forgot—but they are dim, signalling the ship is in its night-cycle. The dryness is probably caused by the ship’s ventilation cycles.</p><p>Exactly when it is, however, will remain a mystery until you check a commlink. Given that you still don’t have one and don’t feel like finding out, you simply turn over and try to go back to sleep.</p><p>It doesn’t come.</p><p>Instead, even though your limbs ache with the crash from adrenaline and your mind is sluggish, you can’t stop thinking about Vexx’s situation.</p><p>That month that he’d been missing from the roster <em>must</em> have been spent in some sort of facility, receiving that reconditioning procedure Damon talked about. It must be the reason why he can’t remember. What else doesn’t he remember?</p><p>And the way he treats you? What about that?</p><p>Your brain helpfully replays the conversation in the storage room, lingering on those strange hiccups in his demeanour.</p><p>At least you’ve spent your tears in Ryona’s office.</p><p>You give up. You’re not getting any more sleep tonight.</p><p>Shuffling off the bed and swinging your arms to get the blood flowing again, you reach for your jacket, then exit the room.</p><p>The ship is silent except for the engine’s quiet hum.</p><p>You make your way to the kitchenette. You try to put all thoughts out of your mind by fixing yourself a cup of hot chocolate. The motions sooth your mind, and halfway through opening cupboards to locate the ingredients, you start humming tunelessly.</p><p>You’ve sorely missed quiet, peaceful solitude. Back in the palace, you’ve been able to go days without seeing anyone but the Guards, and sometimes manage a whole day not seeing even them. The Royal Guards are supposed to be so silent and so pervasive that they disappear into the backdrop like a potted plant or wallpaper, but you’ve never been able to forget they lived and breathed. Nerissa hadn’t either, but she used that in her favour and had a good relationship with all of her retinue.</p><p>
  <em>How many of those were Zovack’s men, pulling a con?</em>
</p><p>You shake the thought away with the cocoa powder you pour into a mug.</p><p>You, in turn, had treated the Guards like how you treated most people—avoidance. You refused guard postings in your rooms. You allowed only one set in the connecting corridors of your suit. The same with the servants.</p><p>You stir the powder and milk.</p><p>You liked doing things by yourself. Still do.</p><p>After puzzling over which machine was the microwave, you stick the mug in.</p><p>Vexx Serif, “Guardsman”, had taken his duties too seriously. Probably, no one had told the new recruit that his charge liked to disappear for long stretches of time. He adjusted to that expectation fast enough, but for a week, you had entertained yourself with observing that one Guard who always came bursting into whatever room you were reading in, looking around wildly for you. You thought the prickling feeling tugging at your heart to be amusement.</p><p>Everyone noticed him. (It’s the hair.)</p><p>The microwave pinged, and you took out the mug, then went hunting for the fridge. Every machine was the same gunmetal grey on this ship, you can hardly be blamed for getting turned around.</p><p>Sometimes, Nerissa felt like sharing palace gossip. Apparently, Celest had noticed your new recruit and was demanding Elettra give her “one of the hot ones”, too.</p><p>You sigh. You laughed, then, thinking your half-sister was silly. A handsome Guard? She might as well get a handsome vase or a handsome suit. Both would serve her the same purpose.</p><p>No one bought marshmallows. That’ll have to be on the next grocery list.</p><p>You pick up the mug.</p><p>Your first sentence to Vexx had actually been a rhetorical question. Having never forgot the Guards had ears, when Nerissa left with her retinue and, still filled with the cheer of conversation, you had turned to him and asked, “So, Guardsman? Would you like a change of posts? You heard my sister.”</p><p>And he had replied, stiff as a board, in the way all Guardsmen reply when talked to: “No, Your Highness. I am happy with my posting.” And looked straight ahead. Which, given his height, was a considerable distance from your head.</p><p>You had sighed dismissively and with no real weight, adjusted your cuffs (your arm was itching; it would be much later that you realized what that meant), and went back to your texts.</p><p>The ship’s silence is calming. The palace was never truly silent, even if the royals’ residential wings pretended at it in the dead of night.</p><p>This is a great time to familiarize yourself with the ship. No Damon to pop out of the shadows, no June to be impossibly earnest, no Ryona to remind you of the past.</p><p>With the mug warm in your hands, you venture into the ship.</p><p>For twenty minutes or so, you wander the top two levels, amusing yourself by identifying the connection of the ventilation shafts and thinking of nothing in particular. Finally, you head towards the bridge, intending to study more of the readings so the next time you talk to Aya, you’ll at least follow along enough to be able to ask questions, but you’re distracted by the observation deck.</p><p>It’s just a long, concave stretch of window-display expanding out of the corridor. The hull of the <em>Andromeda Six</em> is thinner than most spaceships you’ve read about, so it can afford to install a direct observatory.</p><p><em>Some sort of fancy lab-spun glass,</em> you think, touching the window.</p><p>Beyond it is the swirling lines of starlight bent by the hyperspeed warp bubble. No color, just black and white, but beautiful and mesmerizing all the same.</p><p>You sit down, content with watching the universe speed by.</p><p>“It’s late.”</p><p>You’re too tired to be surprised. Your mark twinges softly, nothing at all like the scene in Nos Vega. <em>Thank the gods Ryona was right.</em></p><p>Vexx’s reflection stops about a meter away, arms crossed. The silence is expectant.</p><p>You sip your drink. “Couldn’t sleep.”</p><p>He huffs a breath. “You seem content here.”</p><p>He’s clearly got more to say, so you wait.</p><p>“Found someone too, by the looks of it,” he continues, right on cue. “I wonder what Reznor sees in you.”</p><p>You inhale sharply, ready to retort, when he continues, “New boyfriend? Ditched me pretty fast, huh, princess.”</p><p>He sounds subdued, muted, washed-out. There’s no heat in his tone, at odds with the words he’s saying. It’s almost like he’s playing a role, reading off a script that you weren’t privy to.</p><p>You turn, still seated.</p><p>His arms are folded, a defensive gesture, but the rest of him is lax. The lighting is too dim to make out any other details.</p><p>“Captain let you out of the cage?” you say, instead of responding.</p><p>He huffs another half-hearted laugh. “They’re good for you. You talk back now.”</p><p>“I’ve always talked back,” you say, mildly.</p><p>“Have you.”</p><p>Again, no heat, no feeling, a question turned into a weary statement.</p><p>You turn back to the universe and sip your drink. This conversation doesn’t have to stretch on if he doesn’t want to.</p><p>“Don’t ignore me, Apolia.” He says it like a sigh, and his muddy reflection draws closer.</p><p>To your surprise, he sits down. Several paces away still, but he sits down next to you.</p><p>“The darkness makes all this easier.” His reflection makes a vague, whole-body gesture.</p><p>He overheard the crew’s theorizing, you remember. He’s aware his brain’s been messed with.</p><p>You hum, and drink your hot chocolate. If he can be civil, you don’t see why you can’t share the space.</p><p>(Your mark is humming faintly, too, a tune of hope.)</p><p>“Have you kissed him yet?”</p><p>You jerk violently, then stare at him. Thankfully, he’s both comfortably (if any part of this can be called ‘comfortable’) far away and gazing out of the window.</p><p>“Reznor.”</p><p>As though there’s any confusion who he meant.</p><p>“You never kissed me.”</p><p>You surge to your feet and turn, about to storm off. You don’t know what he’s playing at, but you don’t have to sit here and listen. It’s not hiding if he drove you off.</p><p>“Wait,” he says, desperation colouring his tone, and then loud enough to startle, “<em>Don’t leave</em>.”</p><p>You freeze.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m being an ass, I don’t know what’s happening to me and I—,” he sucks in a breath, sounding pained. “Since I saw you on Cursa my head’s been a mess, but I can’t stand seeing your back again, I can’t, Apolia.”</p><p>You don’t move. You’re gripping the mug so hard you’d have shattered it if it were glass.</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>You grasp for the tatters of your courage and turn around, because Vexx sounds on the verge of tears. You’ve never heard him like this before.</p><p>He’s on his knees, back bent, one hand supporting his weight against the floor, the other gripping his head. His hair is a mess.</p><p>As the silence stretches on, he folds in on himself, until he’s crumpled against the floor.</p><p>You heart breaks a little more.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>You’re not about to go any closer, however. You simply sit back down.</p><p>He doesn’t look up, but his shoulders loosen.</p><p>You give him some privacy by facing the universe instead of him, and after a short consideration, pull out the music box.</p><p>Its slow, melancholic music fills up the space between you. Its silver casing catches the light, and along with the glowing blue ballerina, the music box becomes a pinprick of light, star-bright, in the window reflection.</p><p>You’re not sure how much time passes, the minutes blurring together with the starlight, but you finally feel sleep tugging at your eyes. You shift, then notice Vexx is sitting with his knees drawn up, his head pillowed on his arms, his lanky frame compressed in sleep. His face is hidden in the crook of his elbow.</p><p>For a second, you let yourself feel the full force of your lingering emotions for him, throwing aside any distinction between your feelings and the mark’s feelings. It washes over you, warmth and companionship and <em>safety</em>, and then you pack them up neat and tidy and shelve them away.</p><p>There’s nothing familiar left for you in the world except Nerissa’s music box and Vexx— but if you don’t let yourself start afresh, a chance that the <em>Andromeda Six</em>’s crew inadvertently offered you when they picked you up, you’ll be pulled into the black hole of your past and torn apart. It applies to Vexx, too.</p><p>You close the music box and stand up, careful to step lightly to not disturb him. He’ll wake up with a hell of a crick in his neck, but that’s his problem.</p><p>“Good night, Vexx.”</p><p>You think he stirs, but you can’t be sure under the dim lights.</p><p>You head back to your room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some light is shed on what exactly is Vexx's ProblemTM. Apolia takes one step forwards and two steps back.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i’m not a psych major, i DO know someone taking neurology, but ha ha I just watched a lot of scishow psych for this chapter. Warning: pretty lore-heavy, and entirely made up by myself. </p><p>So much thanks to Azucuache for being a wonderful beta! Your comments and insight are invaluable to the making of this fic.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You answer the door to Captain Calderon Lynch’s intimidating frame.</p><p>“Just wanted you to know,” he says gruffly as you blink away sleep and shock. “We have reached an agreement with Serif. He has free reign of the ship barring the engine room, bridge, and the cargo hold. Don’t be surprised if you see him wandering around.”</p><p>You nod, still frozen like a deer in headlights. That’d explain last night.</p><p>Calderon shifts his weight, then says, “Ryona has issued a summons to her infirmary. Get ready, then head there.”</p><p>“Okay,” you say faintly.</p><p>He leaves.</p><p>You draw yourself out of the stupor. Captain paid you a personal visit, okay. He probably just wanted to make sure you took the news well. Still, the combination of wide shoulders, tall stature, and an ever-present frown looming over you first thing in the morning sits weird with you.</p><p>Trying to shake it off, you wash up, then stop by the kitchenette to grab some toast and a coffee. Half the pot is already gone, and you’re staring blearily at it when June comes in.</p><p>“That’ll be the captain,” he says, chuckling. “Good morning, Apolia.”</p><p>“Calderon drank half a pot of coffee that makes six cups,” you say in disbelief, “by himself.”</p><p>“Yep,” June says, “he can’t function without caffeine.”</p><p>“Did you know caffeine is a laxative?” you say instead, pouring yourself a mug.</p><p>June snorts into his glass of water. “Now I do.”</p><p>“Is it really?” Bash sidles up to you and snatches the pot away to pour himself a mug.</p><p>“Has the effects of one if you drink enough,” you say, turning to the toast machine.</p><p>Bash bursts out laughing. “What a way to start a morning! I’ll see you both in the infirmary. Cheers!” And he lopes out of the room, mug in hand.</p><p>You wince a little at the volume. He’s much too chipper for you at this time of day.</p><p>“Sorry for the lack of variety on the ship,” June says, leaning against the counter.</p><p>You look at him. The caffeine hasn’t kicked in enough for you to use your words yet.</p><p>He nods at your breakfast of one piece of toast and melted cheese (microwaved).</p><p>You snort quietly. “I like easy breakfasts.”</p><p>He hums, then goes to rummage in the fridge.</p><p>The silence is comfortable. Halfway through the sandwich, you glance over to find June staring moodily at the sink. It’s not a flattering look. His features are much more suited to smiles and sunlight and happiness then the off-white of the kitchenette.</p><p>“I’m sorry for yesterday,” you say, trying find something say to cheer him up. But there really isn’t much. “At least we’re hitting back against Zovack.”</p><p>“That’s what we have to do, yeah.” He sighs heavily, then musters up a smile for you. “I don’t like violence, but I like Zovack even less, so. The lesser of two evils.”</p><p>It’s the truth, too. Violence is a truth of the world. Even if, like the Tilaari, people try to shut themselves out of Seleotan affairs, they’re only sticking their heads in the sand.</p><p>It strikes you, suddenly, the realization, so much that you forget all about the last bite of your breakfast, shocks you into speech. “Why is Zovack building an army on Orion?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“It’s not just to defend Goldis or his throne. It doesn’t need defending. He’s won the coup, he has his clan, and you don’t need the labs of Orion to put down a citizens’ revolution. Orsanna’s Guard as a military force is more than powerful enough.”</p><p>“Apolia—”</p><p>You don’t hear him.</p><p>“A man like him with a clan like that can’t be, won’t be satisfied with just the crown.” You stare at the remnants of breakfast laid out in front of you. You’re rambling, but you can’t stop talking. “Does he aim to control the Councils? The Crown Council answers to him, but the rest? If he’s really a tyrant then it depends on the planets and—”</p><p>June grabs your arm. “Apolia!”</p><p>“He’s building an invasion force, isn’t he?” you demand of June. “That’s what he’s doing. That’s his next goal. Which planet in the system has a stronghold of political power that he’ll want to conquer?”</p><p>June searches your face. “Don’t think about that now. Let’s go see Ryona if you’re done?”</p><p><em>Ryona</em>. Your eyes widen. “It’s Tilaarin. It’s got to be.”</p><p>June pales, following your logic.</p><p>Your heart speeds up. You’re right. You know you are. After all, you are the product of a similar, albeit more peaceful, grab at power. “He already has Orion, now Goldis, and with Kitalpha gone every other planet is only a resource. Except Tilaarin. I’m right, aren’t I?”</p><p>June drops his hands and buries his face in them. “Yes.”</p><p>“Alisa saw this coming. Why else direct us to Orion with a cargo full of bombs?” You don’t notice your fingers drumming on the counter, nor do you notice Ayame entering the kitchen. “If we disrupt production, we slow preparations. We have to warn the Council of Eons! They’ll listen to me. My mother was a daughter of—”</p><p>“What’s going on here?” Ayame darts in between you and June. “Apolia, I don’t know what you’re so animated about and I’m super happy that you are, but we’re all waiting for you in the infirmary and Ryona sent me- June, are you alright?”</p><p>Ryona! She has family back on Tilaarin! You bolt for the door, heart in your throat.</p><p>“What’s gotten into her?” You hear Ayame ask, but doesn’t catch June’s reply.</p><p>Down the hall, turn left, two doors down— you skid to a stop in front of Damon, who looks as surprised as you are jumpy.</p><p>Then he breaks into a grin. “If you wanted to plow me, you only have to—”</p><p>You’re in no mood for his games. You can only see the imagined carnage of the palace courtyard spreading across an imagined Tilaarin, its green fields aflame and its famed silver spires crooked and broken.</p><p>You weave around Damon, cutting him off, and dart into the infirmary, throwing yourself at Ryona.</p><p>In the corners of your vision you’re aware of everyone’s surprise at your rough entrance. Bash in particular had been taking a drink from his mug, and is now coughing loudly into his elbow. (Vexx pushes off the wall he’s leaning against in alarm, then stops short with a grimace.)</p><p>“Ryona!” You grab for her hands, then pause, struggling for a full breath. Each inhale is short and sharp, and you can’t get enough air to form the very important things you need to say.</p><p>She and June, the first kind faces you saw, and now both of them have to face violence pulling pasts they want to keep hidden into the present.</p><p>She’s startled, golden eyes wide with surprise as she watches you. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Zovack is going to attack Tilaarin. Maybe not tomorrow or next month, but he will. Like he attacked Goldis and killed- you have to tell your family to- to—” You falter. Run? Hide? Where?</p><p>Panic is making you dizzy. The food you ingested earlier is churning in your stomach. You fall to your knees, nauseous, vaguely aware of Ryona following you down and waving off other pairs of hands.</p><p>“Apolia, listen to my voice, breathe on my count, five in seven out. Ready? One—”</p><p>You do as she says, fixing your eyes on a spot of dirt on the metal floor. Your head is bowed, and your hair blocks out the world. For a while, you are separate from the universe, breathing inside your own bubble of existence, Ryona’s voice the only tether you have to reality.</p><p>When you come back to yourself, you flush with embarrassment from what you just did. What were you thinking, bursting in like that, when you could’ve just asked to talk to Calderon during his breaks? He’s probably came to those conclusions years ago, having tracked Zovack’s movements for as long as he had.</p><p>What can Ryona do about all of it, anyway? Send a message to her estranged family out of nowhere, ask them to leave their home?</p><p>Silly. Ridiculous. Blowing things out of proportion.</p><p>Even though you just woke up, you feel limp and tired. You also want to burrow into the hull, or maybe throw yourself through a window.</p><p>“Apolia?” Ryona asks.</p><p>Her voice sounds right above your head, and you uncurl slightly to peer up at her through a curtain of lavender hair.</p><p>“Can you stand? I have a bed if you need—”</p><p>You shake your head vigorously. You’ve embarrassed yourself enough.</p><p>“—oh, okay.” She lays a hand on your head. “I’ll get you a chair, then?”</p><p>Mutely, you nod, curling into the far side of the medical chair. She moves away. Despite your best attempts, you are aware of the entire crew hovering half a room away. You hear them murmur, the click of boots against metal. Ryona had done a good job of giving you space, but right now, you’d like to disappear <em>into</em> space.</p><p>Too soon, Ryona returns with her office chair.</p><p>Mustering what’s left of your pride, you smooth back your hair and rub your eyes, then sit up.</p><p>As expected, the whole crew is present, doing their hardest to pretend nothing’s happened.</p><p>June plays with the bracelets on his wrist. Ayame tugs at her braid, staring at a spot on the ceiling. Bash stares philosophically into the depths of his mug. Damon has a knife out and is very focused on poking the tips of his fingers with the blade. Calderon’s gaze is fixed on the opposite end of the room from you.</p><p>Only Vexx is frowning harshly at the floor, his hands in fists, tucked under his crossed arms, as though holding himself back from punching a wall.</p><p>Then Calderon clears his throat. “Ryona, please present the results of your examination yesterday.”</p><p>“Yes, of course,” she hurries to say, fiddling with a circular device on her table. She presses a button, and two holographic projections appear in the middle of the room.</p><p>Two blue figures, reduced to their silhouettes, rotate slowly on their holographic pedestals, and after a moment of dissonance you realize it’s Vexx and Ayame.</p><p>Ryona flicks her fingers above the circular control device, and the blue holograms zoom in on the brain regions, parts of the cross-section diagrams lighting up green.</p><p>“I will spare the medical details and get straight to the point. Similar to how I wasn’t able to detect retrograde amnesia in Apolia, nothing memory-related shows up in even the most advanced scans I have in this lab. However,” she indicates the diagrams. “I have used Aya as the same-species comparison for Serif, and what scans I do have show enough of a difference between them to indicate intentional alternation in the latter’s bio-structure. Particularly, of the brain.”</p><p>Her clinical manner and matter-of-fact delivery settle you into your skin, even if the content of her words is chilling.</p><p>Vexx’s expression darkens.</p><p>“Hold on, Ry,” Aya says, raising a hand like she’s in class. “I’m a first-generation Kitalphan. See? Gills.” She flares them for emphasis; Vexx glances over, and for the first time since you met him again he has something other than rage, mockery, or confusion on his face. He looks at Ayame with a sort of ... strained curiosity, as though he isn’t allowing himself to be interested. “Doesn’t that affect whatever medical mumbo jumbo in that machine of yours?”</p><p>“I took inter-species variation into account when I made my conclusion, Aya. The difference between land- and water-Kitalphans are mostly physiological, and shouldn’t be manifesting neurologically.” Ryona puts a hand to her cheek and sighs. “Any further analysis than what I currently have is beyond the ship’s technological capacity to scan for.”</p><p>She closes the hologram and regards the room for a beat.</p><p>“So Zovack fucked with my brain,” Vexx says, hands clenched so hard his knuckles are white. His back is rigid with tension. “What can I do about it?”</p><p>“Since we don’t know what type of memory damage it is — for example,” Ryona adds, upon seeing Vexx’s eyebrow twitch in irritation, “your memories could still be there, what we call memory repression. Or they could be lost, like typical cases of retrograde amnesia. It’s more probable to be a mix of both. The good news is, they’re probably recoverable. The bad news is, because I don’t know which it is and I don’t know the procedure that you went through, I can’t account for the mood swings.”</p><p>She pauses, in case anyone had questions, but it’s grim faces all around.</p><p>“Given the current situation, I can only recommend the most basic of memory psychotherapies: fact-stating, digital aids, and physical aids like my mister, which can be programmed to emit familiar scents. Scent-based memory aids have proven effective in Tilaari studies. And finally, if push comes to shove, hypnosis.” Ryona wrinkles her nose a little. “But I don’t recommend the last one. Easy to mess up and create false memories, which would be detrimental to your recovery.”</p><p>Vexx doesn’t respond. He just glowers at the floor.</p><p>You’re not sure what to think, either. Ryona had made her stance very clear: his memory had been affected, and so had his behaviour, even if she doesn’t know exactly how. Does this mean somewhere in Vexx, your friend still exists? If he recovered his memories of that month before the coup, would anything change?</p><p>“Is that all?” Calderon asks. He sounds strained, as though he’s intruding on a private moment.</p><p>“No.” Ryona tucks a strand of silver hair behind her ear. “Normally, I would have told a patient’s details only to them. However, the unknown factor of Serif’s behavioural modifications affects all of us. Hence, I determined the necessity of all of us to hear my conclusions. Given the circumstances, I have another recommendation to make.”</p><p>She takes a moment to meet everyone’s gaze. “Before I begin memory therapy, I want everyone to help Serif identify his triggers.”</p><p>Noise instantly breaks out in the infirmary.</p><p>Damon’s crow-like laughter flies above the chaos of four voices speaking all at once.</p><p>“That’s asking a bit much of us,” Calderon says, clipped.</p><p>“How do I do that? I don’t even know him!” Ayame flings her arms out, narrowly missing Calderon’s chin.</p><p>“I don’t need help!” Vexx spits.</p><p>Bash just stares at Ryona, open-mouthed.</p><p>You press yourself back into the seat, shying away from the noise.</p><p>“Everybody calm down!” June shouts, waving his arms.</p><p>By dint of his height, June manages to get everyone’s attention when his hand hits the ceiling panels and jostles one of the overhead lights, plunging their side of the room into a sporadic darkness. “Sorry!” he says, and the room calms down.</p><p>The lighting returns to normal.</p><p>Vexx looks thunderous. “Shorty is right. What do you mean, doc?” he says, into the ensuing silence.</p><p>“I mean,” Ryona looks annoyed at the response to her treatment plan. “You, right now, are functioning just like anyone else. Mildly predictable, becoming more so the more we know you. However, as I have witnessed myself yesterday, you are prone to unpredictable mood swings, triggered by as-yet uncertain topics. I want you to interact widely with the crew, find out what those triggers are, so that until you are recovered or we can undo the effects of the unknown procedure, we make the <em>collective effort</em>—” she gives the crew a pointed look “—to avoid those topics. Is that acceptable?”</p><p>“Sure, Ry. We can do charity.” Damon grins, one foot braced against the wall. “But where’s the fun in that?“</p><p>“Predictability.” She narrows her eyes at Damon. “Some of us prefer peace and quiet, Damon. Besides, I’m not asking much. None of you have to do anything different from your daily routines. I am aware of his arrangement with the captain. I’m simply asking all of you to not avoid him on purpose, as I’m sure some of you may be wont to do.”</p><p>She raises a brow at Ayame in particular.</p><p>The pilot grumbles something under her breath, but nods.</p><p>“It’s a reasonable request,” Calderon allows, patience fraying enough to begin massaging his temples. “Alright. Ryona, I trust you will be beginning this therapy you talked about as soon as possible?”</p><p>“That’s correct.”</p><p>“Good. The rest of you, you heard her. If I hear that any of you aren’t following her instructions, that unfortunate soul will be on cleaning duty for the next month.”</p><p>Ryona smiles brilliantly. She claps her hands together. “Thank you, captain. You’re all free to go! Serif, if you have questions, feel free to ask me anytime.”</p><p>Vexx nods curtly.</p><p>“It’s like being told to play nice by a parent,” Ayame complains to Bash in an undertone as they leave the room. He responds with a laugh and a shrug, “You’ll listen to the doc if you know what’s good for you.”</p><p>Damon saunters out after them, twirling a sheathed dagger with one hand.</p><p>You get up from the chair and approach Ryona. You have to say something to her; you probably embarrassed her too. But when she sees you open your mouth, she raises a hand and gives you a stern look. “Don’t apologize, Apolia, I know that’s what you’re going to do. You’ve been through a lot the past month, and there is no need to say sorry for being stressed. If anything, I suggest finding a healthy outlet for it.” Her eyes sparkle with inspiration. “I’ll be free most of the evening after I’m done with Serif’s first session, so why don’t you come in then, and we can start those lessons you asked about?”</p><p>Faced with the promise of spending more time with Ryona, you feel much better. Words of gratitude catch in your throat, so you just dip your head in a shallow bow of thanks and hurry away.</p><p>At the threshold of the room, you give in to the urge and glance back. Vexx’s green eyes instantly catch yours, but you‘re unable to read them.</p><p>Then he looks away, walking up to Ryona.</p><p>“So doc,” you hear him say, “you’re <em>sure</em> no one’s controlling me right now?”</p><p>“Nothing indicates puppetry, yes.”</p><p>“So you’re not sure.”</p><p>“It’s—”</p><p>The door closes, cutting off Ryona’s patient response, and you look around to find Damon’s hand on the controls.</p><p>He looks down his nose at you, not smiling.</p><p>You stare back, suddenly defiant. You worked yourself into a panic, yes, but the root of that was care— for the system, for Tilaarin. It was a desire to prevent more bloodshed, no matter how it manifested. Now that you’ve stumbled once, you’ll know better in the future.</p><p>“June filled us in,” he says, as short and clipped as Calderon. “Come with me.”</p><p>Without waiting for you, he turns down the corridor.</p><p>For a second, you watch his back, wondering why is it he can’t just be a bit more polite about it all—then you follow him. What else is there to do? He’s probably acting on Calderon’s orders.</p><p>You turn left right before the bridge and Damon opens a door you hadn’t even noticed was there.</p><p>The room is brightly lit but sparely furnished, looking not unlike any other storage closet, except for the wide, rectangular table in the middle of the room with a dipped centre holding an advanced holo-projector. It is currently projecting a live map of the Seleotan system.</p><p>June and Calderon are on the other side of the table, engrossed in a discussion. June is in the middle of a gesture, responding to something Calderon said, when Damon bangs the flat of his palm against the wall, making you jump.</p><p>“Hey, boy scouts! She’s here.”</p><p>June immediately cuts off his sentence and just about jumps over the table to reach you. “Apolia! I’m sorry I couldn’t help you just now— you said some things that I hadn’t wanted to think about and it caught me off guard and I—”</p><p>You hurry to fend off the apology, a response stuck in your throat.</p><p>“Come off it, June, you can do that sappy sincere bullcrap in your own time. We’re talking important shit here.” Damon fists a hand in June’s collar and hauls him away.</p><p>Rude as that was, he’s right. Steeling yourself, you approach the model.</p><p>Earlier, Calderon had been reaching for it, so perhaps it’s not a live map, just an interactive model. He’s standing away from it now, arms crossed. You’re not sure why they’re using a military-grade projector for something a kids’ toy could do, but you stop at the table and look Calderon in the eye.</p><p>“You wanted to talk to me, captain?”</p><p>“Yes,” Calderon says, rising an eyebrow. He moves to the left, so you don’t have to look through the hologram to talk to him. “June told us what you said, and the rest can be inferred from what you said to Ryona.” He pauses. “Run through your thought process for us again?”</p><p>Damon and June have joined him, and they look at you expectantly.</p><p>You take a deep breath. This is your duty now, to consider such things, discuss them, and make plans. It should’ve been Nerissa’s—it should’ve been the duty of any one of the ten siblings that came before you, but...</p><p>“My guess is that Zovack doesn’t have complete control of the system yet, and is using the technological resources of Orion to that end.” You place your hands on the table and stare at them instead of the crew members. “Right now, he’s preoccupied both with hunting me down and building up a military presence. I’m sure he has other goals, but those don’t pertain to this conversation.”</p><p>There’s so much to think about. You could potentially sit in your room and just think for a whole day, weighing all the angles, but that’s a tangent you should follow in your own time.</p><p>“I don’t know about his existing support. I’ve never heard of the K’Merii clan, but that could be due to many reasons, chief of which is my lower status within the palace—,” you curl your hands into fists. You have to get better at communicating, now that you’re the heir; no more of this waffling about.</p><p>“If we consider the system’s Councils that remain uninfluenced, only the Council of Eons could conceivably put up a resistance to Zovack’s grab at power. Will they or won’t they isn’t the question. If Zovack is smart—and you all tell me he is—” You chance a look up: Damon’s gaze is flat and hard and his eyes shine strangely in the blue of the hologram; June fidgets with his bracelets, staring at the floor; Calderon meets your eyes head on, and the intensity of undirected hate makes you falter. “Then- then the second target of his power-grab will be the Council of Eons and resource-rich Tilaarin.”</p><p><em>If they aren’t already in an alliance</em>, you correct yourself, but don’t voice it. You don’t want to consider it, not only because you don’t want to think of your species as supporters of violent radicalism, but also because it raises even more questions: if Zovack already has control of the system, <em>what’s his next goal?</em> becomes an impossible question to answer.</p><p>“And you had this epiphany over coffee and toast?” Damon raises a brow. “You’re a real piece of work, princess.”</p><p>You shoot him a hard look, then fall into silence. Power is rarely ever an end-goal in and of itself, but that’s a discussion for another time.</p><p>“We—<em>I</em> have no idea how far along his preparations on Orion are, or even <em>what</em> they are,” you add, just to bring things back to tangible subjects.</p><p>“My money’s on augmented Guardsmen.” Damon pulls out a dagger and begins to twirl it around in his fingers. “It’s simple, it’s straightforward, it’s cost-effective, and we have a prototype in a storage closet, right now.”</p><p>You nod. Again, Damon is rude but efficient.</p><p>Suddenly, you see him in a whole new light. He has the strength to back up his running mouth—his skill with knives is on display, and you don’t doubt he can kill all of you in this room as easily as breathing should he be so inclined. Even if someone took issue with his attitude, he can put them down. It’s not just an affect, put on for the intimidation factor. If you learned this, and add some skills to back it up...</p><p>You are, after all, the rightful heir to the Seleotan throne. The power and authority are already there. You just have to take it back.</p><p>As the realization sinks in like a stone in a river, you slowly stand up straighter.</p><p>“—will determine when we get there. But why are you so confident he will attack?” Calderon asks, and you snap back into the conversation in time to see him flick his finger in the hologram, sending the model zooming in on Tilaarin, blue and green, the fifth from the sun.</p><p>“That was the panic speaking,” you point out. “The Council of Eons have been isolationists for a long time.” They closed themselves off soon after Grandfather was assassinated, but the trade embargo on the system is new. “If Zovack is power-hungry, then he’ll fear the unknown factor in that isolation.”</p><p>Calderon stares at the blue planet, thinking.</p><p>“Do you know why they closed off?” June asks, soft and careful.</p><p>You shake your head. “Only that Goldis was spared the silent treatment because Mother married in.”</p><p>“Are Goldis and Tilaarin military allies?” Calderon asks.</p><p>Again, you shake your head. “For my father, strictly trade.”</p><p>Damon snorts. “Sorry princess, but your mother signed a shitty deal.”</p><p>“Con-fucking-grats, you figured that out, you want a medal?”</p><p>After the outburst, you press your lips together to prevent another one, but you glare at him.</p><p>June looks aghast.</p><p>“Apolia, drop it. Damon, behave, or I’m kicking you out,” Calderon snaps without glancing up. “Actually, I will. Go ask Serif if he knows anything about Zovack’s movements on Orion and Tilaarin.”</p><p>“Why not bring him in on this?” Damon retorts, sweeping out a hand. It cuts through the hologram, making the movements of the planets stutter.</p><p>“No. He’s to be kept out of any meetings unless I say so.” Calderon frowns at Tilaari’s skip and stutter. “Now scram.”</p><p>You watch Damon as he exists, grumbling under his breath.</p><p>As soon as the door closes behind him, Calderon sighs loudly. “I apologize for Damon’s behaviour, princess. He must be on edge. I’ll talk to him later.”</p><p>“It’s no trouble,” you reply. “I’ll have to deal with worse.”</p><p>“You’ll <em>have</em> to—?” Calderon repeats, thrown. “What do you mean?”</p><p>You hesitate. It might seem presumptuous, to declare your claim to the whole system in this slice of warped reality, but June’s eyes widen and he jumps to your rescue.</p><p>“You’ve decided you’ll take up the mantle of Queen,” he says, tone hushed with awe, “haven’t you?”</p><p>You tug at your sleeves. When put that way, it does sound presumptuous. You were never meant to be on that throne. A Tilaari Peg’asi, after centuries of mostly human blood? None of Ta’jean’s children were ever supposed to get close to a position of power.</p><p>(Why she had three is a question best left unasked.)</p><p>“We’ll support you.” The ferocity and conviction in June’s voice startle you. His face is similarly set.</p><p>You try for a smile.</p><p>Calderon has, thankfully, gone back to being preoccupied with his thoughts. “That’s good. June, can you ask Bash if he’s picked up any chatter around the Belt? Just text him.”</p><p>Still holding your gaze, June gives you a firm nod, then taps on his wrist to bring up the commlink’s holo-screen.</p><p>“How likely is it, Apolia, that the Council of Eons will feel threatened by Zovack, and attack?”</p><p>“I don’t know that,” you say. “Ryona is better equipped to answer that than me.”</p><p>“Ah, right,” he mutters. Then he says, “I’m guessing you’d also have no idea about the kinds of defences Tilaarin has?”</p><p>You stop yourself from shaking your head—he won’t see it. “No.”</p><p>“Would Zovack?”</p><p>“Depends on if he has spies in the Council.”</p><p>“He probably does,” June mutters.</p><p>“If he does,” you tilt your head to acknowledge June, “then it depends on Tilaari etiquette. Are they chatterboxes? Susceptible to bribery? I wouldn’t know that.”</p><p>Calderon’s frown deepens, and then he exhales roughly and runs a hand down his face. “Thinking about that now is fruitless.”</p><p>Hesitantly, you venture, “Why d’you ask?”</p><p>Calderon dismisses the close up, setting the model back to its usual scale, then begins to massage his temples. “I'm trying to predict what Zovack is using Orion to develop.”</p><p>“Oh.” You haven’t considered that. “He’d already have access to the usual weapons and defences in the Guard armory,” you point out. The Orsanna’s Guard is based in Silta Vie. “But it’s very unlikely Zovack will attempt a frontal assault. He seems more likely to attack from the inside, like with—”</p><p>“The coup d’etat, yes, I agree,” Calderon says. “But does the Council of Eons know that? Are they even aware Zovack’s a threat? Maybe they’re so full of themselves they can’t see past their clouds.” He crosses his arms. “Let me tell you what the coup on Goldis looked like, Apolia: it looked like a full-on frontal assault.”</p><p>There’s a beat of silent contemplation from both of you.</p><p>So, all in all, an unproductive talk. Nothing’s changed.</p><p>“Bash says he hasn’t picked anything up, but he’ll keep an ear out once we exit hyperspeed.” June taps on the holo-keypad, then looks at the captain. “Now what?”</p><p>Calderon sighs. He’s always sighing, and he’s only the captain of a small ship. What will you be like after a few years on the throne, managing an entire system? No wonder Father didn’t even try.</p><p>“We go back to planning for Orion. Oh, Apolia?” He turns to look at you, really look, without hate or strategy clouding his gaze. “It was good that you thought of this. We’re one step closer to being ahead of Zovack’s plans, and that’s the only position where we can bring him down.”</p><p>You flush, partly with pride and partly with embarrassment. Surely he’d already known most of what you said, with your contributions only filling in the gaps.</p><p>The door slides open. Damon walks in, rubbing his jaw. “Right. So. He doesn’t know anything. Punched me in the face before I even finished my question then grabbed his head and then I got chased out by Ryona for my efforts.” He works his jaw, then says, “For the record he only got me because I had my guard down, <em>not</em> because he’s faster.”</p><p>Then he glares at the three of you, as though daring anyone to contradict him.</p><p>You nod slowly, amused.</p><p>“A trigger,” June says, sounding like he’s had an epiphany.</p><p>“So he can’t spill strategic secrets. Interesting.” Calderon puts his hands behind his back and frowns. “Then we were right to trust his information on Orion. If he can tell us that without any side-effects, it’s likely information unrelated to the K’Merii and won’t bring us trouble.”</p><p>“Boring,” Damon sighs. “What did I miss?”</p><p>“Not much.” Calderon strides out of the room, pressing a button on a control panel beside the door. The hologram collapses as the projector shuts down. “You’re all dismissed.”</p><p>He’s left you all in the metaphorical dust.</p><p>Damon cocks an eyebrow, hands in his pockets, leaning out the door after Calderon. “Well, alright, I’m off to take a nap. Don’t find me.”</p><p>He leaves, too.</p><p>You blink at the aftermath, puzzled at how fast those two moved from one task to the next. But now that you’re thinking of it, hadn’t Nerissa always been in a rush?</p><p>There’s a muted buzzing sound. You look over to see June opening his commlink again.</p><p>“It’s Bash,” he says, when he sees your interest. “He wants to check our gun turrets. Do you want to come with me?”</p><p>Why not? You’ve got nothing on, and by the sounds of it, Ryona is still busy with Vexx.</p><p>***</p><p>For the next few days, nothing of note happens. You’re finally found a routine to ship life, and your circadian rhythm has finally synced with the ship’s day-night cycles.</p><p>(Ayame had told you, off hand, while you were learning the navigation system, that she’s been subtly shifting the day-night cycles day by day to switch the crew from Cursa time to Orion time.</p><p>When you asked why she’s able to stay on top of the schedule, she revealed that she’s timed her personal REM cycles and now sleeps cycle-to-cycle, three hours at a time. It’s a remnant of street-life that’s come back to her now that she’s ditched the Guards.)</p><p>You spend most of your time split between the bridge and the medbay, applying yourself to these new appointed trades with the same vigour you took to your palace education. Ayame and Ryona are much better instructors than anyone you’ve had as a princess. They know their subjects like the back of their hand, possess plenty of field experience, and impart their knowledge to you like a queen knighting a squire.</p><p>Ayame had assigned you the homework of learning all the different map projection types, and having been dismissed with the utmost carelessness — “That’ll occupy you for the rest of this trip, gods, I need a break from staring at coordinates,” (after which she hurried to clarify that her fatigue wasn’t directed at you, only that she’s never had to go through all this at such a pace since Guardsmen training, and is a bit overwhelmed) — you determine Bash as the most likely source of obtaining these maps.</p><p>If you don’t get them, you’ll puzzle out something else to do with your time.</p><p>He’s in the cargo hold this time, and you enter the space to find him seated in front of a collapsible table and chair set up against a wall, commlink interface enlarged and shifted next to a computer terminal.</p><p>You approach, making sure to sound your footsteps so you don’t startle him.</p><p>“Oh, hey, what’s up?” Bash tilts his chin in greeting, eyes never leaving the computer screen, when you draw up next to him.</p><p>The screen is, curiously, scrolling through a forum of some sort.</p><p>You lean closer to read it.</p><p>It’s a list. Each column and row has a photo, along with basic bio-data—name, age, height, “last seen” location.</p><p>“It’s a bounty list, yeah.” Bash confirms your suspicions.</p><p>“I thought the web can’t be accessed in a warp bubble with traditional computers?” you ask.</p><p>That mercenaries have a dedicated forum, you’re less surprised by.</p><p>“That's ansible-only, so yeah, you can’t. This’s just the log from the ship’s last web-sync on Cursa.”</p><p>As he explains, he selects a profile from the computer screen and transfers it to his commlink screen. Your eyes catch on “last seen: Orion”.</p><p>“Will we be planetside long enough?” you ask.</p><p>Bash shrugs. “Last I heard, captain wants eyes and ears on the ground before we blow anything up, so my guess is at least a week. That should be enough time to bag one or two, if they’re still around.”</p><p>Then he grins. “I can do this anytime. Half a week left on this cruise to Orion!” He spins around to face you. “What can I do for you, princess?”</p><p>You smile. Bash’s enthusiasm is infectious.</p><p>“I just wanted some maps of the system? And a projector, if you have one to spare.”</p><p>His smile widens. “Aya giving you the ol’ runaround with the map projections?”</p><p>You blink. There’s logic to studying map projections—coordinate systems are dependent on which version of the system-map a ship is using. And Aya wouldn’t pull your leg like that. She’d better not be.</p><p>Bash sees your expression and laughs. “Tell you what. Navigation can’t be learned from studying a bunch of holograms. I’ll give you the maps, but I’ll loan you my piloting simulator. Get it set up, give it a try, see for yourself how the coordinates work! They’ll be on the top left of the screen.”</p><p>With that, he gets up and disappears into a side door.</p><p>A simulation! You try to keep your excitement in check. You’ve never experienced a real simulation before. The royal tutors had never seen a need for you to get the hands-on sort of education.</p><p>A short while later, Bash emerges with several hunks of metal under one arm and a big tangle of wire in the other. He looks at you, then at the equipment in his hands. “On second thought, lemme install these for you.”</p><p>***</p><p>That evening, you knock on the infirmary doors, pluck at your newly acquired sleeve, and wait for Ryona to answer, as had been the arrangement for the past few days.</p><p>The sleeve covers your arm from wrist to elbow, entirely obscuring the mark, just thick enough to block its telltale shimmer and still be breathable. But it’s still a little prickly, and you don’t like wearing it under the jacket. Ryona had gifted you the flesh-coloured sleeve, one shade bluer than your skin, more her colour then yours. It’s one of her old ones, before she began wearing the long-sleeved <em>Andromeda Six</em> crew uniform. You’re extremely grateful for it.</p><p>So, no jacket tonight.</p><p>Ryona had worried at its plainness, but you found it perfect, especially now. When you first started preparing herbs, Ryona had demanded to see your wrists — “Holding the tools properly is key to making the best mixtures, and unless it’s life or death, I don’t want to see that cumbersome jacket behind this counter!” (Ryona is a force to be reckoned with when she hits her groove; you took the path of least resistance) — so you’ve gotten used to bare arms and shoulders in the infirmary, but then Ryona noticed you favoured one arm over the other.</p><p>You were still uncomfortable with displaying the mark, and that’s when she smacked her forehead and dug out the sleeve.</p><p>(This is more proof Mother never cared. It’s not a new revelation, but it hurts all the same.)</p><p>The door opens to Ryona’s smiling face. “Apolia! Like clockwork! You’re just in time for a practical exercise,” she says, then turns to head inside. Her silver hair is up in a ponytail.</p><p>You wonder what she could be talking about, and then it’s answered as you follow her inside. Your stomach drops to your feet.</p><p>Vexx is seated in front of the medicine counter, playing idly with a plastic medicine bottle. At approaching footsteps, he raises his head. “Are you sure I can’t just—”</p><p>He falls silent when he sees you.</p><p>It’s been a quiet few days. You had used your compass-mark as an avoidance signal. You haven’t run into him, haven’t seen him, and no one’s talked to you about him. It’s been a breath of fresh air, a pleasant facade where you could still pretend to yourself he’s not on board.</p><p>You had, accidentally or no, made avoiding him the requirement around which you planned your days: the bridge, where he’s not allowed; the infirmary, but only in the evenings, when his daily sessions with Ryona are over; your room.</p><p>Seeing him here, now, is a shock to your system. This was supposed to be a safe place. Silly, of course, but that’s what it felt like; evenings were supposed to be just you, Ryona, and the minty, bitter scent of medicine.</p><p>“I’ve just run out of assembled sleeping draughts,” Ryona is saying, oblivious—no, she’s definitely <em>pretending</em> to not notice—to the awkwardness, pulling out empty satchels and setting up the mixing station. “So you can help me make them! I’ll do the selecting, you do the rest, and then you can watch me mix the dosages.”</p><p>So that’s why the mister isn’t on.</p><p>It’s a good practical lesson, all told, but you only wished it was anyone else who was asking for a—what was it, a sleeping draught?</p><p>Stars above, you’d rather it be Damon.</p><p>Vexx Serif, watch you work? He’s never seen you do anything that isn’t princess duties—barring some extremely outlying circumstances. Why is he here?</p><p>You blink away a wave of irrational anger. Ryona isn’t the type to manipulate people—Aya, maybe; Damon, definitely—but Ryona isn't like that.</p><p>Vexx probably just- dropped by at an inopportune time, and she couldn’t chase him out without being rude.</p><p>Ryona has laid everything out and is now eyeing you and Vexx. “Come on, I’ve shown you how to mince roots before. Chop chop!”</p><p>As much as you’re unwilling to face Vexx, you’re not about to back out of doing something related to your heritage.</p><p>You set your shoulders back, determined to ignore him.</p><p>“Sure, Ry,” you say, rounding the counter to stand beside her. “Which ones do I start with?”</p><p>Vexx is studying the medicine bottle with renewed fascination, but your skin prickles. He’s just across the counter, and it’s not particularly wide. Have you <em>ever</em> gone without long sleeves in the palace?</p><p>“We’ll do the sleeping draught first,” Ryona answers, elbow deep in a drawer to the left, away from you. “And we’re running low on raw materials, so just do up everything.”</p><p>You look at the dried roots and leaves already laid out in front of you. They make up the sleeping draught for Kitalphans.</p><p>“Alright.” With an easy shrug, you pick up the mortar and pestle, take a measured handful of the dried leaves closest to you and set about grinding them to powder. The only concession you allow for Vexx’s presence is a stiff back.</p><p>The faint humming under your skin from the soulmark is a little distracting, but the repetitive motions of medicine-making soon grinds it into the background.</p><p>Every now and then, Ryona opens another drawer, digs inside it, and sighs when she withdraws with only a handful of herbs, or comes up empty altogether.</p><p>“We’ve been running too long,” she says to you, conversationally, as though it’s just the two of you. You feel another prick of anger, and push it down. All that changes is the force you use on the pestle. “Usually we restock at every stop—herbs are hard to get, I’m sure you understand why—but it looks like I’ll have to make an excursion to Orion for those processed stuff.” She makes a face at the prospect.</p><p>You tip out the powder onto a piece of coloured (for keeping track) paper and start on a new batch. If Ryona is making small talk to distract you, it’s not working.</p><p>“Isn’t most painkillers processed?” you ask, just to keep the conversation going.</p><p>“Not the targeted ones I prefer to use,” she replies, facing the medicine cabinet with her hands on her hips, lips pursed, as though the wooden contraption would magically produce more herbs if she frowned at it hard enough. “The remedy for headaches and stomach aches is different, for example, but humans just slap the same tablet on the subscription. You have to treat the—”</p><p>“Root cause, not the symptoms, yes,” you sigh lightly. “I know.”</p><p>“You’re a darling,” she says, turning to give you a brilliant smile.</p><p>You quirk a tiny smile in response, cheered, and as she turns back to the cabinet, muttering about quality, your eyes skitter across the countertop without your permission.</p><p>Vexx is staring at you, a strange expression on his face. It reads like regret, confusion, and accusation. You’ve, of course, never seen it before.</p><p>You flounder, almost tipping the mortar over. You recover quickly, managing not to spill anything, and when you look up again, Vexx is playing with the bottle-cap.</p><p>“You’re a bit slow,” Ryona says.</p><p>You startle again. “What?”</p><p>She points to the small pile of powder you’ve made. “I know I stress about quality all the time, but a cut off point for efficiency does exist. There’s also the danger of making it useless, of course. Why don’t you work the knives for now?”</p><p>You nod, mind still tripping over the moment your eyes met Vexx’s green ones. How long had he been watching? What’s he thinking about all this?</p><p>You pick up the knife and start on the roots, determined to not let him get under your skin.</p><p>It’s a while before the previous comfort return to you.</p><p>Ryona is quiet, finishing off the batch of leaves you were working on before beginning to sort the herbs. You keep half an eye on that, mentally revising the formulae she taught you.</p><p>She tuts. “So little left. I wonder where we’re going after Orion.”</p><p>You chop your roots. You don’t know.</p><p>The next few minutes is filled with the sounds of medicine preparation. Ryona picks up the mortar again, this time grinding roots.</p><p>Finally, you set the knife down. Ryona hears the click and looks over at your station. “Oh good! Then you can work on a batch for Vexx. The standard, no special additions. I’m sure you can handle it.”</p><p>And she goes back to pounding with the pestle for a paste.</p><p>You stare at her, then the herbs, and swallow a sharp retort. How much of this is her offering you practical experience, and how much of it is hinting at you to talk to Vexx?</p><p>Sure, you haven’t asked Ryona about his progress. You’re curious, of course, but you also aren’t a masochist. No conversation with Vexx had ever ended with both of you leaving unscathed. Is it so hard to understand that you just want to be left alone?</p><p>Mutely, you pull out the weighing scales.</p><p>Height, weight, age. Important considerations for making the correct dosage, and you knew all that.</p><p>Forget the <em>how</em>—if you give in to your memories here you’ll never climb out.</p><p>As you move to pick up the ingredients, your mark flares painfully. You clutch at it, heartbeat spiking. Vexx hasn’t moved; what’s wrong?</p><p>It fades as quickly as it came, and you glance over to see both Ryona and Vexx staring at you. She’s worried; he’s confused.</p><p>Lucky for you, nothing’s been spilled.</p><p>“What’s the strength you normally give him?” you say to Ryona. You tap your fingers against the counter to stop them picking at your sleeve.</p><p>“The strong stuff,” Vexx replies instead, voice low. “Knocks me out until that pilot starts screeching through the speakers.”</p><p>He’s staring at the counter, and then you catch his gaze flit to the sleeve and away.</p><p>...So what if he doesn’t sleep well? None of you do.</p><p>Halfway through preparations, Ryona’s hand shoots out to grab your wrist, “Not that much.”</p><p>You frown, but put down the powdered root. Vexx lost weight?</p><p>You give yourself a mental slap. He doesn’t deserve your worry.</p><p>You finish up the rest, then give the concoction a whiff for balance.</p><p>And wince.</p><p>Ryona laughs, a chiming sound. “Terrible, isn’t it? That’s why Damon and June doesn’t ask me for them.”</p><p>“Good to know I suffer without a cause,” Vexx says blandly. He puts the medicine bottle on the counter, then rolls it towards you with a flick of long fingers.</p><p>You catch it neatly.</p><p>As you pour the concoction in, you can’t resist asking, “Bad dreams?”</p><p>He rests his elbows on the counter. “Started right off the bat. The cyborg complained. Apparently, I wake up screaming.”</p><p>Your hands still. You stare at him, all pretence wiped aside.</p><p>“What?” he says, drawing back, frowning a little. “Big deal.”</p><p>Something inside you wilts in defeat. You hadn’t meant to insult him. You thought it was a small matter: a crick in the neck, perhaps, or an unfamiliarity with the surroundings. Not night terrors.</p><p>Is this why he’d been wandering the ship, that night?</p><p><em>...since I saw you on Cursa my head’s been a mess—</em> His words echo in your mind.</p><p>Your gaze goes to his temples, looking for the scar Damon said he had, and after a heartbeat of just red hair, you pick out a thin patch of scarring, nearly hidden under new growth. It’s so easy to miss, and your respect for Damon goes up another begrudging notch.</p><p>Then Vexx clears his throat and holds out a hand. Is his ears a little red, or is that just his - stupidly attractive - hair? “Can I have my medicine, trainee?”</p><p>“Right,” you mutter, slamming your gaze down to the counter. You stared way too long.</p><p>You cap the bottle and place it in his waiting palm. He grabs it, almost before you’ve let it go, and shoves away from the counter. He’s out of the infirmary before you can blink.</p><p>“Well,” says Ryona, into the ringing silence, then sighs in defeat. “That’s understandable.”</p><p>You laugh, nervous, relieved, and bitter all at once. Your hand goes to your mark, safely hidden under the sleeve. It pulses, an insistent, unrelenting ache.</p><p>Ryona places down the mortar and gives you her full attention. “I’m sorry, Apolia. He came here after dinner, asking for more of the draught. I had given him a week’s dosage, but he must’ve taken more than prescribed and—well.”</p><p>You were feeling petty a minute ago, but in the face of her concern, as ever, you let go of your anger.</p><p>“It’s okay. These things happen.”</p><p>She draws in a breath to speak and you wait, but she stops, blinking. “...You don’t want to hear this, I’m sure, but—” she says it all in a rush, “you’ll have to get used to him. He might be forced to stay with us after Orion. Zovack wouldn’t take kindly to a turncoat, and anyway I fully doubt the strength of Vexx’s loyalty.”</p><p>“Vexx?” you repeat the first name pointedly, fully aware you’re being pedantic.</p><p>She just stares you down, a hand on her hip, her lips pressed together in an unimpressed scowl.</p><p>You give up first, tugging on the sleeve. “How, Ryona? How am I supposed to talk to him when everything I say hurts him, and his words, me?”</p><p>She softens immediately.</p><p>“Remember that he’s hurting, too. He’s alone on a ship with people who barely tolerates him on a good day, judges him solely by association, actively avoids him—including you, the only link to his past.”</p><p>“He as well as killed my family,” you snap back, and can’t bring yourself to regret the harsh tone.</p><p>Ryona just sighs, reaching out to smooth your hair.</p><p>“I can’t deny that, and I’m not telling you to.” She tucks a lock behind your ear, and you lean into the touch.</p><p>Nerissa never had time for this. She loved you, was as much a mother figure to you as she was a sister, but she didn’t have time for the finer details of affection, too busy with the affairs of state.</p><p>Ven’dela had treated you—while she still noticed you—not much better than a doll.</p><p>“Just try to be civil.”</p><p>You nod, and pull away.</p><p>Afterwards, the two of you manage to wring a semi-successful lesson in mixing herbs out of the ordeal.</p><p>***</p><p>You’re in your room, deeply engrossed in the flight simulation Bash had installed.</p><p>You don’t really like the take-off and landing portions. The atmospheric escape and entry puts on all sorts of vibrations and sets your teeth on edge. Ever since coming on board the <em>Andromeda Six</em>, you’ve had to endure several juddering escapes and entries, but it’s the synthetic buzzing that you can’t stand. So, you’ve programmed it to skip those stages.</p><p>Currently, you’re completely focused on the series of changing coordinates in the top left corner of your screen. You’re not letting yourself take notes for this viewing for several reasons; one, you’ve used up most of the paper allocated to you for the week, and you want to save some note-taking space; two, you’ve just come back from a gruelling session with Ryona, your hands still aching from all the work she had you do; three, you’re training your brain to recognize the coordinates in real-time.</p><p>When the knocking sounds repeats itself, insistent, you realize it’s someone at your door, and not another glitch.</p><p>By the time you get there however, it’s been several seconds since they gave up.</p><p>“Sorry,” you say, as the door slides open, “I was—”</p><p>There’s no one. You peer out into the corridor.</p><p>Vexx stares back, two steps down the corridor, looking just as surprised to see you.</p><p>“Oh.” You consider closing the door and ignoring him, but Ryona’s words come back to you. Shoring up your mental defences, you lean against the doorframe and face him. “It’s you.”</p><p>He wavers on the spot, conflict playing across his face clear as day, then walks back to you. He looks uncomfortable, and you’re crossing your arms in an instinctive gesture of defence before you realize. Too late now, though. So you keep your shoulders down.</p><p>Surely you can manage one civil conversation.</p><p>“Didn’t know this was your room,” he says, stopping a few feet away. It’s almost reminiscent of the older days, where distance had to be kept because of status differences. Nominally, anyway. Celest, for one, didn’t give a shit. (Half the gossip she dealt in was her own.)</p><p>“Then why d’you knock?”</p><p>He’s still wearing that red jacket, and the sprinkles of white on his shoulders remind you strongly of the simulated stars you just saw, one pixel wide. They’re held stiffly.</p><p>You find yourself wishing he’d relax a little.</p><p>“I was- going down the-” he gestures shortly up the corridor, towards the stairs that leads to the rest of the ship. “Thought I’d try this corridor today.”</p><p>He’s been—? You bite your lips to keep in a laugh. “You’ve been knocking every door on this ship?” He nods. “Why?”</p><p>“Doc said I should talk to the crew, I’m following her orders.”</p><p>“By knocking on every door?”</p><p>“I talked to the pilot this way. She’s always on the bridge, otherwise.”</p><p>There’s some truth to Ryona’s statement then, if the only way Vexx talks to the crew is by quite literally cornering them in their rooms. But even Ayame? There’s something funny about the cheerful, peppy Ayame being nervous enough to purposely avoid anyone.</p><p>“Systematic,” you say.</p><p>He stuffs the hand back into his pockets. “I’m well-trained.”</p><p>This time, you bite your lip to hold in a rude joke about dogs. Now’s not the time to emulate Damon. Instead, you search for a safe topic.</p><p>“Find anything interesting?”</p><p>He shifts his weight to his right, staring at a bent metal casing in the wall.</p><p>“I walked in on Reznor napping in a supply closet,” he finally says.</p><p>You smile, just a small one, to encourage him, and also because it’s an amusing image. “Where’s he curled up this time. Wire cabinet? Piping cover?”</p><p>Damon’s naps are legendary, now that you’ve spent enough time on the ship for the crew to tell you the stories. Aya has famously tripped over him napping in the kitchenette and fell into the sink, a feat which both blamed on the other and neither let anyone forget.</p><p>Vexx rolls his shoulders—not quite a shrug, not quite a dismissal. “Here and there.”</p><p>“More than once?” You raise an eyebrow. “How are you still alive?”</p><p>“I hightailed it,” he says, finally meeting your eyes. Is it the light or is that a smile, tugging at the corners of his mouth? “I’m fast.”</p><p>Hearing that, you’re reminded of something. You lean a little—just a little bit—closer. “I heard you managed to punch Damon a second time. That true?”</p><p>Vexx had never been an open book to you; first he was a Guard, then he was a traitor, and now he’s a patient. But you can still tell when his face closes down, and that happened the moment your sentence dropped.</p><p>You’ve said something wrong.</p><p>Quickly, you scan your question for a trigger phrase.</p><p>
  <em>A second time.</em>
</p><p>And when was the first time he landed a hit on Damon?</p><p>In the rain, on Cursa, in a dirty alleyway, where your nerves were still screaming from soulmark-feedback and he told you he had a mission to kill the <em>Andromeda Six</em>’s crew.</p><p>Conversational landmines.</p><p>“I’m faster than Reznor,” is all he says, clipped tone a long shot away from the amiable one a second ago, then he turns sharply and walks away.</p><p>You watch him leave.</p><p>Then you shake your head. For a moment, you had tricked yourself into believing there’s a way forwards for you and Vexx.</p><p>It takes two hands to clap.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Truths come to light, and decisions have to be made—and the crew finally lands.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i maaay have confused an FTL engine with a warp drive, but the game said ‘hyperspeed’ so we’re going with a hand-wavy FTL engine that produces warp bubbles, ok? It doesn’t really matter in the long run, I just messed up the details.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s the start of another day-cycle and you’re in the kitchenette, playing audience to Ayame’s narration-slash-play-acting of a particularly exciting mech fight, when a shriek echoes down the corridor.</p><p>“<em>What</em> did you m—?! No!”</p><p>You nearly slop hot coffee all over your fingers.</p><p>“Holy...” Aya says, eyes wide. “That’s Ryona.”</p><p>You put down the mug, alarmed.</p><p>Aya sees the look on your face and laughs. “She’s probably yelling at some poor sod about their sleeping habits. Let’s go check it out!”</p><p>Her eagerness to witness someone else’s pain is commendable, and you give her a wry smile. Grinning back, she darts out of the kitchenette.</p><p>The two of you round the corner just in time to see Ryona storming past, heading towards the bridge. Then Vexx comes strolling up, less chasing her and more ambling after, slouching with hands in his pockets.</p><p>He spots you and stops.</p><p>“Impressive,” Aya says, arms crossed and lips pursed. “How did you tick her off, exactly? I know we’ve run out of <em>lotalis</em>, but the withdrawal symptoms have never hit <em>this</em> hard before.”</p><p>“Withdrawal?” you sigh, at the same time Vexx sighs and says, “She insists on overseeing my surgery.”</p><p>“Your <em>what</em>?” Aya exclaims.</p><p>“The corrective surgery?” He shrugs. “I told her I know a guy on Orion that we can ask, and she—”</p><p>He waves a hand down the corridor Ryona went.</p><p>“Got angry,” he finishes lamely.</p><p>“Oh, well,” Aya huffs. “And here I was hoping for a show.”</p><p>“I’m sure she’s just gone off to complain to the captain about me,” Vexx replies.</p><p>Aya’s eyes gleam, lips pulling into a wicked smile. “Wanna go find out?”</p><p>They’re getting along pretty well. That talk he had with Aya he hinted at two days ago must’ve been really productive.</p><p>Still, seeing Vexx has evaporated your good mood. Besides, you've left your coffee behind.</p><p>You pat Aya’s shoulder. “You can finish telling me about that match later.”</p><p>“What? But we’re landing soon!” she protests to your back.</p><p>As you walk away, you hear her comment, “Wow. Damon wasn’t joking. You guys really don’t get along.”</p><p>***</p><p>Much later, you’re studying anatomy while Ryona takes care of her plants. You decide to try your luck.</p><p>Without looking up from the text, you say, as casually as possible, “Ry... what was earlier about? When you were shouting at V- Serif.”</p><p>You haven’t stumbled over your words in a while. That the morning’s small incident bothered you so much is an unpleasant surprise.</p><p>She stops spraying water on her plants and looks over. “Oh, that? I just went to tell Calderon we needed to add another detour to the Orion itinerary.”</p><p>“That’ll be a long list.”</p><p>She sighs. “We’ll divide the work.”</p><p>“I heard talk about a—” <em>surgery</em>, you don’t get to finish, interrupted by a crackle over the speakers.</p><p>
  <em>Attention, attention, all passengers aboard the Andromeda Six!</em>
</p><p>It’s Aya.</p><p>
  <em>This is your amazing pilot speaking, here to inform you that we will be reaching our destination tomorrow!</em>
</p><p>You both look around as the double doors open and Calderon steps in.</p><p>
  <em>Current conditions on the ground are terrible, so make sure you are all fresh-faced for the planet of radioactive monsters and mad scientists! </em>
</p><p>The speakers crackle again, then fall silent.</p><p>Calderon takes in you and Ryona. “I hadn’t expected to see you, Apolia. I wanted to catch a word with Ryona. Could you leave a moment?”</p><p>Surprised, you close your book and stand up, but Ryona puts a hand on your shoulder and says to Calderon, “It’s okay, she can stay. What do you need, Captain?”</p><p>He looks between you and Ryona, then at the medical textbook in your hands. He makes an affirmative noise.</p><p>“As Ayame just announced, we’re reaching Orion tomorrow.” He looks at you. “Before private communications are compromised, I would like to ask a favour.”</p><p>You sit back down.</p><p>Ryona’s brow has gained a little crease. “Are you referring to the possibility that Zovack will attack Tilaarin?”</p><p>Calderon nods, pulling up the office chair and settling into it heavily. “We have not discussed the possibility of an alliance between the Council of Eons and Zovack, and unlike Cursa or Teranium, we don’t have contacts on Tilaarin to check.”</p><p>Your stomach sinks. There’re so many unknowns to account for. You absolutely need to build up an information network if you hope to win against Zovack.</p><p>Calderon pinches the bridge of his nose. “We’re going to have to spend more time on Orion than I’m comfortable with, but that’s neither here nor there. Ryona, I wouldn’t ask you this if I wasn’t desperate, but is there any way you can contact your family?”</p><p>That’s right— You try to remember what she’s shared with you about her family: they’re a Council family, three daughters, the eldest studying to take over the seat. But what sort of seat is it? An Elder, or iust a councilor?</p><p>She’s the only one with the ability find out what you need to know, but when you look at her, expecting a quick response, you see that she’s frozen up.</p><p>“What’s this about?” she asks, after a long, weighty pause.</p><p>“We need to find out several things.” Calderon shifts, looking apologetic, then holds up a hand and begins ticking off his fingers. “We need to know if it’s easy to plant spies or spyware in the Council of Eons. For that, we need to know if Tilaari society is susceptible to Zovack’s brand of anti-Peg’asi radicalism, and then how information is transferred around the Council and wider society.”</p><p>Calderon pauses to look at Ryona, making sure it’s sinking in for her. As lists go, this one is messy. He continues.</p><p>“We also need to find out the weak points of the Council of Eons— where are the areas they outsource? Which industries are interplanetary? Tilaarin has been closed off from the system so long, none of our informants anywhere, even on Goldis, know anything useful. Is Tilaarin going to sit on its hands for this conflict like always? Are they going to ally with Zovack to do that?”</p><p>“He knew the Goldis-Tilaarin treaty didn’t include the military,” you say, startled.</p><p>Calderon nods at you.</p><p>Zovack wouldn’t have attacked your family so viciously otherwise. Killing <em>all</em> of you? If any planet had a military alliance with Goldis, that would’ve been a declaration of war.</p><p>It’s eye-opening to keep up Calderon’s logic.</p><p>He <em>probably sits around all day, thinking</em>, you muse, a little envious and a little anxious. It will soon, if you are successful, be your job.</p><p>The crown isn’t even in sight yet, and you already feel its weight on your shoulders.</p><p>One of Ryona’s hands has crept up to clutch at the curved pendant around her neck. Her knuckles are white with strain.</p><p>“None of these are available from an outside source.” Calderon sits back and folds his arms. “I’ll tell you the only thing I did find: the Stellar Queen’s full name is Ta’jean Kallipso Athi’ven. Ring any bells?”</p><p>She gasps, paling.</p><p>You blink back a wave of emotion, so tangled you don’t even want to sort them out.</p><p>You never knew her full name, and it had been Tavaris who dropped the fact that Mother was an Elder’s daughter. Why did he know, and not you?</p><p>“She was an Athi’ven?” Ryona’s voice is strained and hushed. “Do you know which one?”</p><p>“I don’t,” Calderon says, curt. “I don’t even know who the Athi’ven are.”</p><p>“They’re a Council family,” you cut in, unable to keep silent anymore. “Right?”</p><p>Ryona turns to you, ashen-pale. “Not just that. They were the Eon’s family.”</p><p>Past tense. <em>Eon</em>.</p><p>Each Council called their councilors different names. The Crown Council separated themselves into three tiers: Bronze, Silver, and Gold, each in charge of their namesake district, and Gold councilors held the most power after the High Councilor. Tilaarin, like all other councils, just had two distinctions: they had normal members of the council, then the more powerful Elders. Their head councilor holds the title of ‘Eon’.</p><p>Did that mean the current Eon, whoever they are, cut the Athi’vens out? Is that why Ta’jean was signed away on a diplomatic treaty? It made a certain kind of sense — the close relative of the highest power for the monarch of the system.</p><p>You want to chase her with questions about how, who, <em>why</em>.</p><p>Years spent wondering why Ta’jean is so cruelly distant — and Ryona can tell you.</p><p>But the questions are lodged in your throat.</p><p>“They ‘were’? How long ago was this?” Calderon asks sharply, glancing from you—shock looks terrible on you, you’re sure—to Ryona. “What happened?”</p><p>“It was before my time,” Ryona says, voice a whisper. “I heard- the previous Eon was died, and her family all died soon after. I didn’t realize the Stellar Queen was—”</p><p>“Died?” Calderon echoes. He’s leaning forwards, frowning hard. “How?”</p><p>Ryona wrenches her hand away from the pendant, voice strained. “Who said it was targeted? It was just a- a terrible illness.”</p><p>Calderon looks unconvinced, and Ryona grows agitated at his skepticism. “It wasn't an assassination. We’re better than Zovack and his ideas.”</p><p>You relax a little. It’s strangely assuring, to know that the life you dreamed about—living on Tilaarin, surrounded by people who looked like you, being a legacy to a wonderful culture of healing and critical thought—had never been possible. A better option never existed. Something lifts from your chest: a pressure you never knew was there, released at last.</p><p>The more Ryona vehemently rejected the possibility of a usurpation, the more you believe that was what happened. Calderon seems to agree with you, if the deepening frown was any indication. Still, he let the subject drop.</p><p>“I’m sorry for bringing it up, Ryona. But do you see why we need a contact on Tilaarin? Will you contact your family, Ryona?”</p><p>She hesitates. “I’ll... please let me think about it, captain. I’ll decide when we land on Orion.”</p><p>“Alright,” he says, standing up. “Thank you for considering this.”</p><p>Ryona nods.</p><p>As Calderon leaves, you shoot to your feet as well. It’s just occurred to you—</p><p>“Ryona, let’s call this a night. I want to—” you trail off, unsure, but she’s barely paying attention to you, golden gaze far away.</p><p>So you say your goodnight and hurry out of the infirmary after Calderon.</p><p>He’s not gone far, and you catch up to him quickly, footsteps echoing in the metal corridor.</p><p>He turns around at your approach. “Apolia. What do you need?”</p><p>You stop, turning the words over in tour mind to make sure they come out right. You’re pretty sure Calderon won’t laugh if you say it wrong, but you’re also sure embarrassing yourself in front of the captain <em>once</em> was enough.</p><p>“I noticed-” <em>you sit around and think a lot</em>, and that’s not right. Or polite.</p><p>He’s staring at you with an uncharacteristic patience.</p><p>“In the palace, they didn’t teach me these things—,” you wave a hand to indicate the infirmary and what just happened there. “How to think.”</p><p>Calderon folds his arms, but it’s in consideration instead of his usual stoic fierceness. “What did they teach you?”</p><p>“The basic subjects,” you say. “I was never supposed to rule. A lot of things I thought myself, by reading.”</p><p>And then sneaking out of the palace to buy from the Silver District bookshops. Vexx had been <em>so</em> surprised to find himself there, when he tailed you.</p><p>Calderon, on the other hand, looks impressed.</p><p>Encouraged, you continue. “I was always aware of my position, and I am now. I was wondering if you-” <em>could teach me</em>, but that’s awkward.</p><p>“If I?” He repeats. The bafflement sounds genuine.</p><p>You take a deep breath. “I was hoping to be included in all future strategy discussions, and if I haven’t overstepped my boundaries, be given explanations to your thought process.”</p><p>That’s a mouthful, but it got the point across.</p><p>He stares at you, flummoxed. “Why?” Then he adds, “I mean, yes, of course, permission granted. But what do you mean, an explanation?”</p><p>You chew on your lower lip, then decide to just spit it out.</p><p>“I need someone to learn from, and you’ve- proven-” <em>urgh</em>; but you keep speaking. “Adequate. Capable. You consider angles I don’t think of, and I can’t afford that if I’m to take the throne back.”</p><p>Calderon’s eyebrows climb higher with every word you say, and when you’re done, he says, not quite able to hide his amusement, “You think I’m smart.”</p><p>You sigh, exasperated. Why didn’t you see the teasing coming? He <em>is </em>friends with Damon.</p><p>“Yes,” you mutter, shoving your hands in your pockets — then remember you don’t wear your jacket to Ryona’s anymore, and sulk a little harder.</p><p>Calderon hides his laugh with a cough. When he talks again, he’s marginally more serious. “I’m flattered, Apolia. I’ll make sure to call on you when I next talk to the crew, and by ‘explanation’, are you asking for my reasoning?”</p><p>“Something like that,” you respond.</p><p>“Of course,” he says. Then he checks his commlink, and says, “Why don’t I ask you a few questions right now? They’ve been on my mind, and would be good practice for you.”</p><p>You stand straighter. “Sure.”</p><p>He grows serious. “If it was you, will you sacrifice a stronghold on Orion for the throne, or the other way around?”</p><p>You barely stop to consider it. “No, I'd prioritize Orion. The planet is the jewel of the crown. Its R&amp;D centres give you the flexibility to recover from losses and build up power. The armouries on Goldis includes the royal stockpile and the Guards’ armoury, sure, but the royal stockpile is gene-locked. My grandfather put it in place and purged the scientists who developed it. Zovack can’t get at it.”</p><p>“Who knows about the lock?”</p><p>Not ‘does Zovack know about it’. Is this to keep the possibility of new players within consideration? “Unless Grandfather made a slip up, only the family.”</p><p>“Who knows how to use it?”</p><p>“Just us.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” Calderon asks.</p><p>Your eyes widen in surprise. “Why did you ask that?”</p><p>“Science is never entirely lost. Even if your grandfather culled the scientists and destroyed the records, there may have been leaks. Aside from that, how discoverable is the science? What are the chances some scientist on Orion stumbled across it again, in the intervening years?”</p><p>You frown. “I can’t answer those. Those odds can’t be known.”</p><p>“A high or low probability would suffice.”</p><p>“Then...” You chew your lip. “It’d be a yes. Father had a lab entirely dedicated to genomes. If someone understood the principles behind power-hoarding... but it doesn’t matter. They’re all dead. Zovack can’t use it, and I imagine he’ll find out fast. Goldis is a strategic and symbolic victory but not a military one.”</p><p>You look up to find Calderon’s eyes are cold as flint. “Not all of them.”</p><p>—Oh.</p><p>Calderon just shakes his head. “Food for thought. One more question. How likely is Orion to be a trap for Zovack’s enemies?”</p><p>He’s blindsided you with the question.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“If Orion is the more important piece as you said, it’d be imperative to protect it. I think it’s highly likely. The question then becomes: what are the information Zovack would be aware of, through spies or brokers or common knowledge, that he can repurpose into lures for his enemies? Those servers, for example. How might he know about those?”</p><p>Estimation of risk, you recognize, is what Calderon is asking. Docking and refuelling on Orion are necessary actions that cannot be avoided — the remaining option is to make good on the chance and make it cost Zovack, but safety is still paramount.</p><p>He’s also asking you to think like Zovack, and be aware of the thoughts of other players on the board.</p><p>“That a huge technologically-supported research hub like Orion would need tremendous processing power would be common knowledge for anyone who knows how a computer works,” you begin. “The locations are harder to discern, and maybe Zovack wouldn’t want to waste resources finding out? Much more cost-effective to just guard the research centres. There must be ways to find out, though. So—”</p><p>You stop, thinking, and Calderon waits for you to pick up the thread again.</p><p>“How long had he had Orion as a stronghold? That’ll determine likelihood of the data centres in particular being a trap.”</p><p>Calderon smiles slightly, small and grim, but it’s validation, and you feel like it’s lesson-night with Nerissa again, tentatively offering answers to her questions of policy and rule, growing bolder as you answer to her satisfaction. The swell of pride in your chest is the same.</p><p>“Unclear, but a safe guess is several years, at least,” Calderon says.</p><p>“Then he would have plenty of time to trace out the data centres and set up the basic remote security systems— drones, sensors, the likes.” The more you think to through, the more dread creeps into your veins. “Is he aware people will attack the servers? Does he think people’ll <em>dare</em> to?”</p><p>Calderon raises an eyebrow, as if to say ‘<em>that’s obvious’</em>. “Caution always pays off.”</p><p>And it does.</p><p>You cover your mouth in shock. “But that means we—!”</p><p>He shakes his head. “Think it all the way through, Apolia. It’s still a good plan. Better than storming the labs. Everything you said on the bridge holds true <em>even if</em> Zovack has taken mitigating measures.”</p><p>“Why? If you know it’s a trap—”</p><p>“—guess at what it is, make contingency plans, and carry on,” he says. “Because?”</p><p>“Because the payoff is worth the risk,” you say, hands falling to your sides in defeat.</p><p>He smiles. “That’s correct. We are mercenaries, used to high stakes. Between my caution, your knowledge, and the skills of the crew, I’m fairly confident we will pull this off without much incident.”</p><p>You release a relieved sigh.</p><p>“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” Calderon says, checking his commlink again. “It’s getting late. Go rest, Apolia, and- I believe in you. You’ll make a good queen.”</p><p>High praise, and it sits wrong with you as you watch him walk away. Nerissa would’ve made a good queen; she studied the art from a young age, she had the allies ready to go, she had the experience, she was smart and kind and she <em>cared</em>.</p><p>You? You’re the faint shadow of what a good queen should be, scrambling to make up for lost time.</p><p>***</p><p>You startle awake.</p><p>Someone’s banging on your door.</p><p>You almost fall off the bed in your haste to answer it, but between that and your late-night visitor’s unmistakable urgency, enough adrenaline is pumping through your system to shock you wide awake within seconds.</p><p>Three steps to the door, (it’s really a very small room), and you slam the button to open it, expecting nothing short of a hole in the hull, only to be met with Vexx, who’s wild eyes doesn’t exactly set you at ease.</p><p>A fist is still raised in the air, poised to bang on your door, but as you stare at him, he wraps the arm around himself, as though holding his guts in.</p><p>“What is it?” you ask, trying to read his expression. “Is something wrong? Is the ship under attack?” <em>Are you hurt?</em> lies on the tip of your tongue.</p><p>Then you notice the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead and neck. He’s not wearing his jacket, and he’s braced an arm against the wall for support. His muscles flex, spasming.</p><p>He’s panting for breath, as though he ran here all the way from his cell, but they aren’t evening out. Although his eyes are wide, and their gaze seem to pass right through you.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>There’s barely enough light to see. The only sound is the ship’s engines, humming away behind the walls, and the buzz of electric lights. Everyone is resting, gathering their strength to face Orion.</p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p>“I’m going to get Ryona,” you say firmly, voicing the first thing you think will calm him down. “You can’t sleep, right? Let me get—”</p><p>You reach for the sleeve (it’s too stuffy to wear for long, and yes, maybe you got complacent enough to take it off before you slept), draped over the chair an arms’ length away, but the moment you move even slightly away from him, his hand shoots out and grabs your arm.</p><p>“Apolia,” he says, sounding pained, and you freeze. “Don’t—”</p><p>Another ragged inhale. “I was- Are you-?”</p><p>He can’t seem to get a full breath, and Ryona’s advice about panic attacks flashes across your mind.</p><p>His fingers dig into your arm. His whole body is shaking.</p><p>“What did I do?” he gasps out. “Please, I need to know. I can’t—”</p><p>He’s gripping your arm like a lifeline.</p><p>You make the snap decision to help him inside. If he has a breakdown here, you’ll never get past his frame to get out — he’s too tall.</p><p>“Come in first,” you tell him, still using the calm, firm voice Ryona made you practice. It’s meant to only be a mental voice, something to ground yourself if you felt an attack creeping up, but this is an emergency, and you’re shorthanded.</p><p>You hold his wrist and tug, gently. “I’ll tell you, I promise, but come in first.” Whatever he wants to hear.</p><p>His eyes snap to yours, and the breath hitches in his throat. The intensity of his gaze knocks your breath away for a second, then you grimace.</p><p>Not good.</p><p>But then you tug again, and he follows you.</p><p>“Hey,” you say, just to say something. “It’s okay. You’re here. I’m not leaving.”</p><p>You hit the switch on the wall with an elbow, shutting the door. That’ll block some noise and give him a little privacy if anyone heard his hammering and came poking around.</p><p>He collapses into the only chair in the room, cradling his head in his hands, breathing short and light into his cupped palms. Quickly, you snatch the sleeve and slip it on. Once the fabric settles over your mark, you feel calmer.</p><p>“Deep breathes. You know, right?” You touch his shoulder carefully. The undershirt he’s wearing is soaked with sweat. You’re too worried to be bothered.</p><p>“Vexx?”</p><p>He lists towards you, slightly. Bolstered by this reaction, you squeeze his shoulder and continue. “Focus on your breathing. We can talk after you’ve calmed down.”</p><p>He nods once, a sharp jerk of his chin. The next few seconds is a strange out-of-body experience, as you listen to him go through in front of you what Ryona helped you through. Vaguely, you suspect you should help, do something more than just stand there, but...</p><p>His hands drop. Without looking up, he says, still sounding strangled, “I’m good now. Thanks.”</p><p>You move away, absently picking at the fabric of the sleeve.</p><p>You had prioritized calming him down, and only now are the contents of the things he said settling in. He’d been trying to ask you something.</p><p>The silence grows oppressive.</p><p>“Do you still want to talk about it?” you finally say.</p><p>“Only if you want to,” he rasps, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know you didn’t want to talk, before.” He looks off to the side. “You don’t hide it as well as you think.”</p><p>You let out your breath a little too fast. Mostly, though, you find yourself resigned. Good to know you can’t win— if you shut up, Ryona makes you talk; if you talk, Vexx tells you to shut up.</p><p>Tired at the late hour and annoyed that he still manages to see through your bullshit, you say mildly, “Did you come to me for a reason or are you just here to piss me off again?”</p><p>You notice, darkly amused, that the only light source in the room is the dim fluorescent in-set lamp that doesn’t have an off switch. It’s currently dimmed like the lights outside; your skin is about as bright as a naked singularity.  </p><p>“No,” Vexx says, as much an exhale as a response. Then he rubs his eyes. It’s a startlingly human gesture. “There’s this- thought— I know it’s there, but if I so much as consider it, I get a splitting headache. Ryona says I have to find the right angle to approach it from. Test the waters, she said, but I need your help.”</p><p>You regard him warily.</p><p>The adrenaline buzz is fading. As it goes, you become more and more aware of the effect his proximity is having on your mark, like scuttling things underneath your skin. Is this what north feels like? You don’t like it, and you can’t remember what it felt like, in the before-times.</p><p>“You got out of bed to ask me this?” you deflect, stalling for time. What does he need help with? What have they done to him, that he can’t even reason?</p><p>“Apolia.”</p><p>Vexx sits back and meets your gaze evenly. It’s really him, you recognize with a shock—before he disappeared, he was lapsing more and more into these pensive, introspective silences. One moment you’re having a conversation and the next he’ll be light years away. Now, however, he’s fully present in the current moment, only the furrow of his brows and the slant of his mouth reminiscent of those quiet moments in the palace.</p><p>He’s waiting you out.</p><p>“...alright,” you concede. “What do you need?”</p><p>He breathes in, then out, bracing himself. “On Cursa—”</p><p>You grimace.</p><p>He sees it, and he makes a complicated expression, but he forges on. “On Cursa you asked me why I did ‘it’.” He places extra emphasis on the last word. “What did you mean?”</p><p>By great force of will you hold back a scoff and a sob. What did he do? A lot of things. You’ve revealed some to the crew, the most to Ryona. You roll the words around on your tongue, getting a feel for voicing them within the confines of this room.</p><p>Voicing them cements them in reality, after all.</p><p>“You betrayed me.”</p><p>“No.” He jerks upright, eyes burning with conviction. They find yours and grab on. “I’d never hurt you. Never.”</p><p>When had your hands curled into fists? You force them open.</p><p>“Cute,” you mutter. “A bit late, huh? Doesn’t change the past.”</p><p>He <em>frowns</em>, like he’s puzzled. As if he doesn’t know. (He doesn’t know?)</p><p>All the anger and hurt and resentment you’ve kept a lid on is bubbling up, and you try to tamp it down. Even if he doesn’t remember, it’s no fault of his. Here he is, trying to find answers, isn’t he?</p><p><em>But it </em>is<em> his fault, </em>a small voice whispers in the back of your head. <em>He chose to work for Zovack. He chose to make promises and break them. He deserves to </em>hurt<em>.</em></p><p>“You lied. You left.” Abandoning caution, you dig into your memories, pulling up the remembered screaming of your soulmark to bolster the anger now boiling in your core, keeping your courage fuelled to keep talking. “You want to know what you did? You used me to complete your damned mission.“</p><p>All of a sudden you’re seething mad. Every hurtful thing he said, you now recall with crystalline clarity. Funny, how you had thought the past can lie where it fell, start over. Your volume is rising but you don’t pay it much attention.</p><p>You throw his words in his face. “What happened to the ‘<em>I wasn’t your friend</em>’ and the ‘<em>I never cared</em>’ and the—”</p><p>“I care,” Vexx leaps to his feet and grabs you by the shoulders, cutting you off in the worst way imaginable. His hands are dry and cold. “That’s a lie. They told me that.” The words are almost tumbling over themselves to get out. “They- That’s not true, Apolia. I always- I <em>did</em> care. The rest—”</p><p>Your stomach swoops. You lock your jaw, torn between shoving him away and hitting him, and for the span of a heartbeat he’s so close you can see each individual eyelash, red as sunrise, and the gold flecks in the green of his eyes.</p><p>Then he lets you go, collapsing at your feet with a cry of pain. You’re not surprised this is a trigger.</p><p>You back off so you won’t be tempted kick him, because that’d make you just as pathetic.</p><p>You turn away to compose yourself. Your eyes sting. You throat burns. Your heart is a drumbeat in your ears.</p><p>You focus on the grounding exercises Ryona thought you. One hand on the cold metal walls for texture, the other flexing for physicality. Count down from five.</p><p>Four.</p><p>Three.</p><p>Vexx picks himself up, still drawing strained breaths. You hear the sounds of boots scuffing against metal.</p><p>Two.</p><p>One.</p><p>You face him again.</p><p>“Well, you tested those waters. You were never really my friend and you were only there for the mission. You’re a traitor to the crown and that means me, now,” you say. “And that’s the truth. If any of that trips you up go see Ryona.”</p><p>He makes a sobering sight, slumped over in the chair.</p><p>At times like this, it’s easy to remember Zovack did this — because this Vexx Serif is so fundamentally different from the one you knew, facade or no. It’s also easy to forget you‘re supposed to hate Vexx, mostly because you know, in your bones, that he probably <em>didn’t </em>want to kill eleven people, despite the consequences of his decisions, and that even if he did have terrible grievances against the crown and the monarchy, he would’ve been perfectly fine with things if the whole lot of you just got shipped off to Botulin.</p><p>But power and violence goes hand in hand. It’s just a question of who wields what.</p><p>Still, the tripwire is in his brain, not yours. You can scream at him all day—stars know how much you’d love to do that—and it wouldn’t do anyone a single lick of good. The ship will land on Orion soon, and you know Ryona will try her best to cure him, simply because she’s a healer through and through.</p><p>“What happened to the draught?” You change the topics with the tact of a crash-landing spaceship, but you don’t care. “Did you forget?”</p><p>He blinks, stirs. “I did take it. Guess it wasn’t strong enough.”</p><p>“I’ll tell Ryona. Maybe we can mix something experimental for you.”</p><p>“Alright,” he says. “Thanks.”</p><p>His eyes land on the sleeve. Your fingers still.</p><p>“That’s, er, that’s new, right? I’ve—”</p><p>“Yes,” you say with as much finality as you can muster, shutting down that conversation before it begins. “Look, if you’re feeling better—”</p><p>“Yeah, okay, I’ll just—” He gets to his feet, looks around wildly for the door.</p><p>He really was out of it, then, if he’s disoriented in this small a space. Anger still simmers, a backdrop to your thoughts, but you’re starting to feel a twinge of regret at your tone.</p><p>At the door, he pauses. When he speaks, he says it to the metal door. “I came here because I- They told me about the raid, afterwards, but I knew the passageways so well I... dreamed I was there during that day, that I was too late, and before I knew it I was down the corridors, here.”</p><p>You hug your arms and wait.</p><p>“You’re right. This is my problem. I’ll—” He sighs. It’s a sigh weighed down by the words he doesn’t voice. “Sorry, princess. My apologies. I’ll see you in the morning.”</p><p>He leaves.</p><p>The room plunges into silence.</p><p>You stumble, then sit down hard on the chair Vexx occupied just a minute ago.</p><p>At the end there— you shut your eyes and shake your head violently, but it doesn’t stop the memory from surfacing.</p><p>
  <em>“Hurry!” you hiss at Vexx, hands braced against the small of his back, shoving him into the hidden passage behind the statue.</em>
</p><p><em>You can hear the patrol’s footsteps, marching inexorably towards you. The corridor holds no hiding spots.</em> </p><p><em>It’s late, way too late for a princess to be up, and you’re not in your wing of the palace. If you’re caught— bile rises in your throat at the thought of facing Ta’jean.</em> </p><p>
  <em>You give Vexx another shove, but your hands hit air. Before you can be surprised, strong hands grab your arms and haul you into the passageway.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You stumble a few steps, cursing under your breath. Vexx’s stifled laughter sounds right beside your ear, and you flinch away, your heart rabbiting in your throat. He’s way too close.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sorry, princess,” he whispers, not sounding apologetic at all. “My apologies.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You’re going separate ways from here. Downwards lead to the barracks. Upwards to the south wing.</em>
</p><p><em>“I’ll see you in the morning.” In the complete darkness of the corridor, calloused fingertips brush your face.</em> </p><p>***</p><p>Needless to say, you didn’t sleep well.</p><p>When Ayame’s off-key singing comes piping through the system, it feels as though you’ve only just closed your eyes.</p><p>Washing up isn’t the refresher you hoped for. Recycled water only remind you of Goldian fountains and their sparkling performances, and when you think of those, you put on the mental brakes.</p><p>Only blood and bone left down that path.</p><p>One coffee later, you step onto the bridge. Most of the crew is already there, milling about. Ayame’s legs are propped up on the dashboard controls, and the window shows a slowly warping starlight — the ship’s warp bubble disintegrating. It’ll be emerging within Orion’s orbit soon.</p><p>“You look tired,” Ryona says, upon noticing you.</p><p>You shrug.</p><p>She sighs, then tucks your hand in the crook of her arm and marches you over to June, who— you haven’t seen at all, actually.</p><p>“There,” she says, depositing you like a handbag beside him. “You two insomniacs can keep each other company while I make sure Damon hasn’t sprung the airlock looking for a place to nap.”</p><p>You look at June for the explanation.</p><p>He sighs and runs a hand through his curls. “She deals with stress by being more of a hen than usual. We’re all a bit worked up by Orion.”</p><p>“No shit!” Ayame calls from the front, raising her — mug of coffee, you realize, in mock-celebration. Then she taps the mic, sending a blast of feedback over the speakers, <em>Rise and shine, my pretty darlings, and if you’re already up, get your asses to the bridge, we’re landing in fifteen minutes!</em></p><p>She kicks back again, arms thrown up in the air, obviously pumped full of caffeine. Her hand hits the mic, however, and sends another whine of feedback going through the speakers.</p><p>Calderon, studying a holo-map of Orion, grunts.</p><p>“So... where’ve you been?” you ask June.</p><p>“Not proud to say I’ve been sulking,” he says bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not news that I don’t like Orion, so everyone left me to it.”</p><p>Bash comes strolling in, once again way too cheerful. “I was summoned! The engines are fine, captain. Those babies don’t need me hovering!”</p><p>Calderon had only looked at Bash from the corner of his eyes. You only wish you had that sort of heft.</p><p>“Is everyone here?” Calderon asks, finally looking away from the hologram. He scans the room, face transforming into a scowl. “Ayame, call them.”</p><p>“Aye, aye, captain,” she cackles, leaning forwards to press the ‘broadcast’ button. <em>Damon Reznor! I’m afraid you only have the next ten seconds to get here before the Captain comes after you with the fury of a thousand—</em></p><p>“Sticks in the mud just like him? Oh please,” Damon says, strolling in. “Spare me from your wrath, O Captain! Mercy!”</p><p>“You’re using the wr- incomplete literary reference,” you can’t help but say.</p><p>Ryona follows, arms crossed and lips twisting in an attempt to suppress a laugh at Damon’s expense.</p><p>Damon gawks at you, about to throw back a retort, and is cut off by Vexx, who’s trailed in after them, looking as shitty ad you feel. “You always so cheerful in the mornings? No wonder Zovack kicked you off the team.”</p><p>He aims a kick to Damon’s leg and misses, but he wasn’t trying very hard.</p><p>“I’ll kick you off the bridge, carrot head,“ Damon snaps, then quietens immediately when Calderon’s stare intensifies into a glare.</p><p>“There are some things we need to all be clear on before we land, and I would prefer to not repeat myself.” Calderon sweeps all of you with the glare. He hasn’t looked this fierce since the first time you saw him on the bridge. If looks could burn, you’d all be slightly toasted.</p><p>It’s probably the stress, you decide.</p><p>“Go ahead, Calderon,” June says.</p><p>“First of all, we aren’t the only enemies Zovack has. It is highly likely that he has instructions on the ground to respond to new arrivals asking about sensitive information. Proceed on your activities with tact and caution.” Calderon clasps his hands behind his back. “Once we land, we will be grounded for at least a week. Do not, I repeat, do<em> not</em>-” he glares at Damon, “-attract the attention of local law enforcement or other belligerents before our mission is complete.”</p><p>“Exiting hyperspeed in ten minutes,” Ayame says, flipping a few switches. “Engaging manual piloting.”</p><p>Calderon nods at her. “Zovack is most likely to have staffed patrols with hired guns and allied gang and clan fighters. Be prepared to run into them, but avoid being identified as a crew of the <em>Andromeda Six</em>, which means you are all not to wear the emblem.” He gestures to the yellow emblem on their clothes. “In addition, I am to be updated on all your movements as you make them. Use only the encrypted channel.”</p><p>“And the plan we talked about?” Damon asks.</p><p>Calderon acknowledges his second-in-command with a tip of his head. “Will proceed as we discussed. Time is of essence, and the moment we land we will disperse into these following teams: Ayame, Sebastian, take Apolia with you; Ryona, Damon, accompany Serif; June and I will visit his contacts. Any questions?”</p><p>You were never consulted on any plan, but there’s probably time to ask Ayame and Bash later, so you don’t say anything.</p><p>“Yeah, question,” Vexx says. He’s scowling at Damon, who looks as smug as a cat. “I get the need for security. But why him?”</p><p>“We have no one else to spare,” Calderon says, ignoring the hand Damon clutches to his heart at the response and his exaggerated stagger-step backwards, as though shot. “June has intelligence on the ground we need to collect, and Sebastian has been tasked with acquiring the basic necessities of ship life.”</p><p><em>Is that what we’re doing?</em> You look over at Bash, who’s fiddling with his commlink, seemingly zoned out of the conversation. If you <em>are</em> grocery shopping, you’re pretty excited for it. <em>A real trip!</em></p><p>“In any case.” Calderon is still speaking. He jerks his chin at Damon. “Ryona reports you get along best with Damon.“</p><p>Damon smirks and drapes an arm against Vexx’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’ll just be like old times! Remember all those glorious days where we fought back-to-back on the moons of Teranium... Brothers-in-arms...?”</p><p>“That never happened, and you were so green you almost opened an airlock,” Vexx snaps back. He leans away from Damon, but doesn’t actually move to dislodge the offending appendage. “I had to save your sorry ass.”</p><p>Damon scoffs loudly, not even a little embarrassed. “Ancient history! I was a baby space assassin then, I’ve grown.”</p><p>“Fascinating,” Calderon cuts in, drier than sand. “If we could get back to the business at hand? Save the reminiscing for after we survive the next week.”</p><p>“Aye,” Damon says easily, standing upright again.</p><p>“On Orion, keep all discussion about our plans limited to the ship. Every time you return to the ship, I want Sebastian to sweep for bugs. Apolia, Vexx, he has prepared commlinks for both of you. Collect it upon landing.”</p><p>“Five minutes to landing,” Ayame says, flexing her grip on the yoke. “Bash, Vexx, now’s a good time.”</p><p>“C’mon,” Bash says, waving a hand at Vexx. “Let’s go.”</p><p>“Where’s he going?” You whisper to June.</p><p>You had intended to ask June under your breath—you weren’t <em>really</em> interested in where he’s going, but the pointed inclusion of your engineer had sparked curiosity—but spaceship acoustics being what they are, even a whisper carried across the bridge.</p><p>Vexx’s shoulders hunch lower. Bash spins around to walk backwards and talk to you at the same time: “Passcodes, passcodes! He knows all the up-to-date ones for the safest pirate docks!”</p><p>So that’s what he meant by ‘guaranteeing safe passage’.</p><p>“Along with a hailing frequency,” Aya adds, then verbally shoos them out.</p><p>“There you have it,” June says to you after the doors slid closed. “You haven’t been to Orion before, have you?”</p><p>You shake your head. “Never left Goldis.”</p><p>He pats your shoulder sympathetically. “Not much to see on Orion, anyway.”</p><p>“Everyone to their seats,” Calderon says. “Brace for warp exit and entry burn.”</p><p>Damon is in front of the control panel, already secure within his seat, and Ryona is strapping herself in. You and June follow suit.</p><p>For the next few minutes, no one spoke.</p><p>When warp bubble fully collapses, the view from the deck changes from swirly lines in space to a looming, darkened planet. Sunlight catches on the top-most layers of satellites in orbit as the <em>Andromeda Six</em> passes by, making them glint and sparkle.</p><p>The ship has emerged on the dark side of the planet. Ayame is re-orienting the ship with practiced flips of the thruster controls, and soon the ground and its latticework of lights shifts out of view, but the single glimpse you got of the surface beneath the orbital layers had been breath-taking. The latticework of lights — where it's concentrated and where it’s thinned out — is a map to the planet’s surface activity.</p><p>Ayame speaks into the mic. “Parked. How do I proceed?”</p><p><em>Salvage has noticed us. </em>Bash’s voice crackles through the speakers. <em>Requesting ID check, dispensing codeword.</em></p><p>The view stops shifting. As Ayame said, the ship has temporarily parked in orbit. Another layer of satellites passes by the windows in their circuit.</p><p>“Receiving request for declaration of intent. Accept?”</p><p><em>Affirmative.</em> Vexx’s voice is level and professional. <em>Hail has usual using one of your fake names, and say: doesn’t the planetshine and starlight give you the best moon, officer?</em></p><p>Ayame repeats that into the comms, using the name <em>Messier Virgo</em>. Three seconds later, there’s a response. <em>Affirmative, Messier Virgo cleared for landing. Don’t forget to get a picture of the rings, pilot. I heard they’re beautiful this side of the sun. Hangar 356A rotating into position.</em></p><p>The back-and-forth is obviously some sort of code. Orion doesn’t have a moon anymore—it had been small and far away in the first place, and over the centuries of settlement, it had been exhaustively mined and the remains towed out of orbit to make space for the extensive satellite array Orion currently sports. And rings? No planet in the system had rings, except Tilaarin’s manufactured ones.</p><p>The thrusters hummed as Ayame oriented the ship.</p><p>“Are we clear?” She asks.</p><p><em>One more check, at the docking. </em>Vexx says, in an indecipherable tone.</p><p>June shifts in his seat, brow furrowed.</p><p><em>Your play, man,</em> says Bash, along with a crackle of noise as though he just moved the mic.</p><p>
  <em>Go ahead and dock, Ayame.</em>
</p><p>It’s a sign of how stressed Aya must’ve been that she didn’t correct Vexx.</p><p>“Brace for landing,” Ayame says, and then the thrum of the thrusters being fully deployed for landing burn hits the bridge.</p><p>Noise envelops your world for twenty long seconds, then a great shudder, and the bridge’s orange lights flick on — you hadn’t noticed them going dark for atmospheric entry.</p><p>The ship has landed.</p><p>The ceiling of Hangar 356A abruptly closes, cutting off the lights of the facility outside. The lights in the hangar remain dark.</p><p>You glance at the crew. Is this what’s supposed to happen?</p><p>Ayame is gripping the yoke with white fingers.</p><p>Then, the radio crackles, and a pleasant female voice says, “Welcome to the capital of the New Seleotan Republic. We apologize for the inconvenience. Before resuming your activities, please state your ID, purpose of visit, and preferred form of address.”</p><p>“Um,” says Ayame.</p><p>“This is new,” June says under his breath.</p><p>Damon scoffs, not bothering to muffle the sound.</p><p>Calderon glowers at the radio. “He sure moves fast,” he mutters.</p><p>Ryona tugs on a stand of hair worriedly, arms crossed.</p><p><em>New Seleotan</em> Republic<em>?</em> you think. <em>That’s rich.</em></p><p><em>Ayame, switch the input to this microphone, </em>Vexx says.</p><p>Ayame flips a few switches then says, “You’re good to go.”</p><p><em>This is merchant vessel </em>Messier Virgo<em>. We have cargo from Cursa for a private client. We provided identification in orbit.</em></p><p>“According to the guidelines by High Councilor Zovack, all ships are to present a NSR-approved identification. Please consult your licence of commerce.” Despite this being a refutation, the voice remains pleasantly calm.</p><p>“So if someone didn’t update their licence, they’d be detained?” June is gripping his rifle.</p><p>“Sounds like it,” Aya says, leaning away from the control panel.</p><p>“And then what? What can Zovack do with a couple of traders?”</p><p>“This is a pirate port, June, don’t forget.” Damon stretches out his legs.</p><p>“So he’s cracking down on smuggling?” Calderon says, tone begrudgingly respectful.</p><p>“Says who? Probably he wants a monopoly on it for his clan.” Damon pulls out a knife and starts spinning it between his fingers.</p><p>You agree with Damon. Yet another sign that Zovack is smarter than his rhetoric makes him sound; such tactics can be made to look noble and selfless while enriching the self and fixing none of the underlying problems.</p><p>
  <em>Will an Agent ID suffice?</em>
</p><p>“Please state agent ID.”</p><p>Damon drops his knife.</p><p>Being right next to him, your gaze follows the path of the knife as it lands on its handle and comes to a rest beside your feet.</p><p>
  <em>Nine-Lamed-Seven-Iod-Tau-Five</em>
</p><p>“That’s so bullshit,” Damon hisses, but as he makes to unstrap himself and presumably stalk to the engine room to let Vexx know just how bullshit he thinks it is, Calderon snaps out a hand and stops him.</p><p>Damon stares at the captain, who simply shakes his head.</p><p>The pleasant female voice, which you’re now beginning to suspect is some sort of automation, says, “ID accepted. There exists no records of <em>Messier Virgo</em>. Would you like to register your vehicle?” A distortion cracks the voice on the last word.</p><p>
  <em>Our business is private.</em>
</p><p>“All space-faring vehicles are required to have identification in the NSR.”</p><p>
  <em>I already gave an ID. Why do I have to register my vehicle?</em>
</p><p>“All space-faring vehicles are required to have identification in the NSR.” There is no change in inflection.</p><p>Definitely an automation. But how is Vexx going to talk his way out of that?</p><p>“Tell him to register the spaceship,” Calderon tells Ayame, who immediately protests.</p><p>“But captain-!”</p><p>“Tell him. It’ll be more suspicious if we don’t.”</p><p>Glancing at Calderon one more time, Ayame reaches for the mic. “Captain says to do it.”</p><p><em>If you’re sure,</em> Vexx says. Then, to the announcer, <em>We would like to register.</em></p><p>“Please hold,” replies the voice.</p><p>Several seconds later, a string of beeps comes through the radio.</p><p>“Welcome to Orion, the technological hub of the New Seleotan Republic.” The lights in the hangar flicker on, then you hear the mechanical sound of giant doors opening.</p><p>Calderon is the first up from his seat.</p><p>“You have your instructions,” he says to the crew. “See to them.”</p><p>Then he sweeps out of the bridge.</p><p>***</p><p>You pace through the same few corridors, unwilling to go too far from the docks.</p><p>Ayame had basically told you to make yourself scarce - politely, of course - while the crew buzzed around the cargo hold and the docks.</p><p>You hadn’t had a chance to talk to her or Bash, who went straight from the engine room to the ship’s computer. Passing you, he had stopped only long enough to push a gauntlet-like device into your hand. “Channel 5 is the encrypted one we’ll be using on Orion, and I’ve set it for you.” Then his eyes became glued to the computer screen, where displays were flashing.</p><p>Ryona disappeared into the ship, most likely going back to the infirmary.</p><p>June and Damon had their heads together over the weaponry, sorting knives and guns, but at least June spared a glance to watch you go.</p><p>Perhaps at a later time, you’ll have a position and work. All this standing around is getting to your nerves. Sure— it’s true that as the youngest princess, eighty percent of your job description was to stand around and look pretty during official functions with the other twenty a strict ‘stay out of sight’, but you were never content with that job, either.</p><p>So you snuck out of the palace.</p><p>As though summoned by your reminiscing, Vexx appears around the corner. Your eyes lock with his for a second and he looks away, hesitates.</p><p>This time, finally, you accurately separate the buzz of the mark from the rest of the anxiety thrumming through you. Thankfully, it does nothing more.</p><p>Had he hoped to come up behind you? What does he have to say, anyway, that he’s come looking for you again? Something ugly is curling through your stomach, and you’re not sure what it is nor who it’s directed at.</p><p>Vexx stops several feet away. Is he nervous? He better be.</p><p>—then you catch yourself. Why this animosity?</p><p>“Do you have a minute?” he says.</p><p>You glance back down the corridor. It’s empty.</p><p>“I need a drink,” you say, referring to coffee, but you wouldn’t mind having one of the fancy reception cocktails from the palace, or maybe three. Celest always said alcohol lubricated social interactions.</p><p>The kitchenette is close by and you head towards it, hearing boots clatter on the metal floor behind you.</p><p>You set about fixing the coffee, which isn’t much: there’re some dregs leftover in the pot from morning, so you just pour it out and stick it in the microwave. It’ll be disgusting, you’re sure, but the motions buy you time to think.</p><p>It’s only when you’re watching the mug go around the turntable that you think—hey, maybe hot drinks and a conversation with Vexx Serif isn’t very smart to have in the same room, given your track record with the latter.</p><p>You drum your fingers against the gunmetal grey of the wraparound counter, already upset. And he hasn’t even opened his mouth yet.</p><p>“So, what?” you say, bracing your hands against the counter.</p><p>If it’s just a rehash of yesterday...</p><p>“Ryona isn’t sure this is reversible,” he begins without preamble, gesturing to himself with a tight flick of his wrist. “The doctor I know on Orion is really just an underground surgeon, nothing like the Cursan scientist who did this.”</p><p>You hold your silence, waiting.</p><p>“We’re still going because Ryona needs the equipment, and if it comes down to an operation, she’ll be operating, but we have no idea how it’s going to turn out.”</p><p>You push away from the counter to look at him carefully. Why isn’t Ryona telling you this? What’s he really trying to say?</p><p>“Get to the point,” you tell him.</p><p>His lips twist down at your tone, but his green eyes— they’re dark and sad and you tear your gaze away, heart hammering.</p><p>Bitterly, you think, <em>if this is a sign of him taking some damned responsibility, it’s about time. </em></p><p>“I’m staying on with the <em>Andromeda Six</em> crew. Doesn’t matter what the surgery can or can’t do. To Zovack, I’ve compromised his position just by being caught, and that means no going back.”</p><p>You bite your tongue to hold back a mean-spirited retort and settle for narrowing your eyes at the floor. <em>So?</em> You don’t voice it.</p><p>“So, I think I have to work out my issues.” He says it in a rush of breath. “There’s a high chance nothing will change for me.”</p><p>Your breath is trapped in your throat. You mind spins through the implications— if he’s not going to get better, but he’s also going to stick around, does that mean you’ll be stuck in limbo forever?</p><p>You can’t go on like this, you <em>can’t</em>.</p><p>Your hand slips into a jacket pocket to feel the smooth, comfortingly cold surface of Nerissa’s music box.</p><p>Two reminders of a past, one dead, one broken, neither of which can help you move on. Neither of which will <em>let </em>you, not with her haunting voice and his beseeching eyes.</p><p>“I won’t ask you to help,” Vexx says, quietly. “I’m sure Reznor would like to yell at me too.”</p><p>...Zovack is such a piece of <em>shit</em>.</p><p>“I agree,” Vexx says, with the faintest wisp of amusement, and you realize you’ve hissed the thought between your teeth.</p><p>He turns serious again. “If you want, I’ll stay out of your way. This is what I came to ask.”</p><p>You blink up at him.</p><p>Have you- have you never considered that option before?</p><p>Why not?</p><p>Your mind spins with mounting waves of revelation, all of which leaves a bitter aftertaste, but he’s waiting for an answer, so you scramble to make sense of them.</p><p>How have you never thought, even in the deepest throes of pain, that <em>he</em> would choose to leave? Have you taken his presence for granted, reduced him from a living being with agency and will to the mere projection of your misery, that <em>you</em> can hate and reject and bury, but not the other way round?</p><p>You stare at him in shock, replaying all your previous interactions in your mind.</p><p>Hurt. Anger. Avoidance. Lashing out. All from you. And him? Uncertainty and hesitation.</p><p>What moments of care and compassion are few and laughably pitiful.</p><p>
  <em>Remember that he’s hurting, too.</em>
</p><p>Ryona’s always right.</p><p>
  <em>…the only link to his past.</em>
</p><p>You don’t know anything about his past, you suddenly realize. The irony is thick enough to suffocate. Your history is easy to piece together, with the absent parents and the stuck-up siblings and the stuck-up siblings and the looming walls of the palace, but what about his? Parents? Siblings? Childhood?</p><p>You’d <em>never</em> asked, having just assumed you’d have all the time in the world to find out, the princess and her Guard, spinning tales of fancy in the golden afternoon sun. —Dining on food prepared by unseen servants, sitting in a palace built upon the back of invisible bloodshed and sacrifice (your Grandfather’s reign wasn’t peaceful, far from it), building castles in the sky in the spare time you’re privileged to have.</p><p>No wonder he called you spoiled and entitled.</p><p>You don’t know how to answer him.</p><p>A part of you, vicious and hungry for him to hurt as much as you, clambers for you to push him away again, sever the cord, betray <em>him</em> this time— but all that is built on him cherishing the bond you once shared as much as you did, and in a roundabout way, doesn’t that just mean <em>you</em> still want him to care? (Truth hurts.)</p><p>“Don’t strain yourself, I get it,” Vexx says, wry. There’s a blinking light on his commlink, and yours, too. He gestures vaguely at it. “You should probably head to the docks soon. I’ll get out of your hair.”</p><p>No, wait, you haven’t said anything—</p><p>(That your old silence has returned at such a time is hilarious and wretched.)</p><p>There was something resigned about his tone, as though he came here expecting a rejection. That he assumed your answer and assumed it that way struck a nerve, and the resulting chagrin propels you into speech.</p><p>“I don’t- It’s not- Let me think,” you demand, tripping over your words. Your hand is curled tight around the soulmark, digging into the fabric. The pressure reminds you to reign in your tone, so you do. “I’ll tell you when you come back.”</p><p>He’s frozen in the doorway. You have a clear view of his profile, and you can see him blinking, visibly processing what you just said.</p><p>Then he- he smiles, a real one, even if it’s a small curl at the edge of his lips, and you’ve seen him like this before, in simpler times, even if back then the mirth was much clearer and shone through his eyes, too.</p><p>Seeing it is like a punch to the gut.</p><p>”Yeah, okay,” he says, quiet and happy and then he‘s gone.</p><p>The insistent beeping of your commlink brings your attention back.</p><p>The world and its demands come rushing back.</p><p>You tap the blinking indicator and Ayame’s face pops up, the projected image distorted every so often by a scan line. It’s a recorded message.</p><p>“Heyo! We’re ready to head off! Gather at the docks, Captain wants a word.“</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>next chapter orion!! are you excited?? im excited!!</p><p>EDIT: whoop im gonna need a small break to plot, so next update's going to be... a week? smth like that. thank you for your patience!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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